Under the Red Sky
by Vanessa Crispin
Summary: "Love makes us sick, haunts our dreams, destroys our days. Love has killed more than any disease."
1. Chapter 1

A person once told me a strange thing.

That it would be better to die in the place of someone you love, rather than spending the rest of your life without that person.

I think you know who I'm talking about. But did you know that she told me this at a party, drunk with her head between her knees?

* * *

She'd just had a sip of apple cider. That Bella was such a lightweight it was almost pitiful. She'd been a bit of a recluse for the last couple of months – ever since her boyfriend up and left her – and now that he was back, she was suddenly a whole lot more social again.

I didn't really know her. I mean – I was in her biology class, but we never really talked face to face. It wasn't until this party, two months before the end of our junior year. The Cullens always stuck to her like glue, but they never went to these parties, hosted by us mere mortals, her other, less polished classmates. But in my opinion – seeing Bella without the frat pack was like watching a baby animal try to survive in the wild jungle that is high school parties. The music was loud, and nobody really cared or payed attention to what the song was, as long as you could dance to it. It was usually overcrowded, someone always spiked the beer and Mike was always found sleeping in the bathtub. A long, self-tanned arm stretched up over the crowd, waving to get my attention, the motion making jingling sounds due to all the bracelets.

"Becca! Come over here!" Lana shouted, wanting me to join her for another drink. She was on the track team, like me. I whipped my head around, my long reddish hair following the motion, my eyebrows knitted in a small frown.

People always said I looked serious, even when I didn't mean to be.

"Just a minute kay? I'm just gonna head to the bathroom!" I hollored back, going up the stairs of Mike's family home. His parents were often gone, for work or for seminars. Which meant that his house was more often than not used as a party venue. As I walked down the upstairs hallway, I spotted people making out in one of the bedrooms, but soon it would inevitably escalate. It always did, at parties like this.

That was how I found Bella Swan, almost passing out on the bathroom floor. When I came in, she was staring blankly at the tub – eyes glazed over with alcohol.

It wasn't really my responsibility. I could have called out to Mike – who was still sober at that point – and ask him to deal with it. This wasn't my house, and she wasn't my friend. But then her blank stare caught me, and she smiled in a drunk, stupid way.

"Hey, I recognize you." she said in her strange, husky voice. I closed the door, narrowingly avoiding a drunk somebody tripping on the carpet outside. I was stuck with her for the time being. I shrugged and waved at her.

"Yeah, hi." I said, my voice sounding dull and uninterested. But either Bella was too drunk or just didn't notice. She squinted up at me, frowning for a moment.

"Rebecca right?" she asked, and despite myself I was impressed. I didn't have a lot of friends at school, except for a few girls from gym class and from the track team. My name was rarely mentioned, except for a few times in the school magazine, whenever I won state competitions and the like. On the weekends I mostly trained a lot, or went running along the beaches. Salt always clinged to my hair and face, either from sweat or from the ocean spray. My dad had been a coach for olympic champions, once. He wanted that for me as well.

I'm not really sure what I want anymore.

Meanwhile, Bella was looking more and more like she was ready to projectile vomit, and I had a choice to make.

"You look angry, why are you angry?" she asked me, tilting her head and looking too knowing for her own good. I looked away from her and huffed.

"I'm not angry, I just don't know what I should do with you." I protested, sighing. She was silent for a beat.

"Can you drive me home? Please?"

Well, I very well couldn't just leave her like that could I? Besides, her dad was a police officer – if he found out that his daughter had been abandoned by her friends at a party like this, we might not have another one like it for quite some time. I didn't have a car, but I knew Lana wouldn't be mad if I borrowed hers for the night, which was parked outside.

* * *

It was during this car ride that things began to unfold. After telling me the adress to her house, she also told me a little bit more about herself – and the reason behind her sudden disappearance a few months ago, right before the Cullens returned to forks, and moved back into their old house like nothing had happened. A lot of people at school wondered about that.

"Holy shit, you went all the way to Italy!?" I asked, genuinely fascinated by the story she told me, full of strange guys in capes and a boyfriend who would literary die if he couldn't be with her.

The look on her face was freaked, like she had just told me too much. I thought that was strange, perhaps her dad didn't know about her boyfriends previous suicidal tendencies? I thought it was a little dramatic sure, but all teenagers are. We're supposes to be.

"Well uh, I also went there to hear about a... summer exchange program!" she said quickly, her voice wavering.

"Really?" I asked, surprised. Bella glanced at me quickly, looking nervous.

"Yes. I found a website about it."

"No kidding, I didn't even know we could apply for that as juniors, not seniors." I said, and some of her uneasiness melted away as she turned to me, her posture more relaxed.

"Of course you can, I mean if you want to. "

"And these Volturi people you talked to, were they it then?" I asked, and she turned strange again, looking down at the dashboard like it was suddenly very interesting.

"Uh sort of. I mean I didn't apply for it, in the end. It wasn't right for me."

* * *

I took about fifteen minutes to drive to her house. She had sobered up some during the journey, which meant that i wouldn't have to carry her or anything like that. We simply said our goodbyes and that was it. I drove the car back to Lana's house and walked the short walk back to my own fathers house, where the porch light was always on. A comforting sight.

It had been one of mom's rules. Always keep the light on so that the cat will know where the door is. Which really isn't necessary, since all cats can see in the dark. Not that she believed that.

There wasn't any reason for the rule to still be in effect, since she hadn't lived with us since I was six – taking the cat with her.

Despite it being so late already, I couldnät get that conversation out of my head. About Italy, about suddenly going away to some far off country without looking back. How crazy, I had thought at the time. I would never do something like that, I thought.

But then I realized why I thought it was crazy. It was because my father would think it was. How he would react if I proposed it, to go abroad.

Which was why I planned it all in secret.

Because was it really such an outlandish idea? I already took italian at school, and was proving to be surpisingly good at foreign languages. I was not the only one who was surprised – I was certainly not the best student in any other subject than sports. I had never been called dumb, but I was used to teachers sighing over me and my chicken scrawls, my neverending questions.

"What are all those papers for honey?" Dad asked, looking over my shoulder – application papers in italian, he had no idea what it was. I shuffled them away and brought out a textbook, and he immidiately grew bored, eyes zoning in on the hockey game on tv once more.

"Just some extra homework."

"Well, just dont let it get in the way of your training Beccs."

And I didn't. I left the planning for the evenings and recesses at school. Turns out, Italy had a lot of places that had summer programs available for junior students from the US. I scoffed seeing the list for Fashion programs, and blanched a little at all the museum programs, not looking forward to spending all my time inside in a sunny place like italy. Wasn't there one single place that offered a bit of both?

I had applied for about 13 different offices when I suddenly, out of the blue, recieved a cryptic but promising email from an italian adress.

 _Dear Rebecca Somersten,_

 _We recieved your application one month ago, and now after a process of evaluation have decided to offer you a summer internship program at our offices as a secretary to our CEO. If you accept, you shall be personally trained for a week before applying yourself completely to the job. An apartment will be available to live in during your stay in lovely Volterra, but other alternatives are also available._

 _Please notify us as soon as possible about your decision._

 _King Regards,_

 _The Volturi secretarial offices_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews on the first chapter! Lets hope our main character stays alive for another few chapters at least ;) I apologize in advance for my general lack of knowledge and poor grammar._

* * *

" I was going to suggest that you spend a couple of weeks with your aunt this summer, but this?" my dad asked, baffled.

Yeah, my dad was not handling the news of me leaving very well. He was staring at a brochure of Italy (one of many in my accumulated collection) then at the packed luggage beside my bed - a frown fast appearing on his face. I probably should have told him earlier. I rolled my eyes as I once again tried in vain to find my necklace - the only thing mom had given me that _wasn't_ disposable. I never left anywhere without it. It wasn't remarkable - a small silver heart on a chain, my initials on the back. It had bite marks on it because I had been wearing it since infancy, and the chain had been replaced more than once

But it made me feel safe, protected.

"Dad, its only for the summer - besides, lots of other people from school are doing the same thing." I said, which was true. It was more common for seniors to go looking for internships, but a few eager juniors also went for it - I knew that Lana would intern at her fathers law practise in Boston.

But I also knew that it looked strange for me to suddenly want to do this. My scholarship for one of the country's best sports colleges was as good as mine, the principal had told me so himself earlier this year.

And now I was going to intern as a secretary, for a discreet company in Italy, of all places. It had raised a few eyebrows to say the least. The girls I hung out with thought that I was going on vacation no matter what I told them - to them, all that mattered was sports, parties and having a good time - preferably on someone elses expense.

I was tired of it.

"Yeah, but I wish you would have talked to me first before deciding. This is not just a hop and skip away - this is on the other side of the atlantic ocean. Why not intern somewhere here? I could go speak to the guys at the training center in jacksonville and- "

There was another reason. Other than wanting to prove it to myself that I was more, that I was capable. Something that I would never be free of unless I left Forks, at least for awhile. I looked down at my hands on the floor, noticed that they werent - I was doing it again. Shaking - as if I was cold. But I wasnt. I was numb, which was worse.

"No dad, stop. I want to leave - I think I need this, okay? "

Dad looked at me. It was as if I had said something that finally made him understand, at least a little. After a long moment where he didn't say anything, he just nodded. If he had noticed my hands, he didn't show it.

* * *

Dad offered to drive me to the airport, but it was somehow just too awkward to imagine that I drove myself, in the end. Lana tagged along, pestering me to call her when I met a cute italian stud. Notice that she says when, not if. There is never a negative option in Lanas mind when it comes to guys. But unlike the others, she backs off. She doesn't laugh when I tell her how nervous I am about all this. Instead she looks at me carefully, mahogany eyes going soft as she watches me grip the steering wheel a bit too hard.

"You're gonna do great kiddo, just you wait." I tried to to my best to believe that was true.

But the best part about all of this? I hated flying.

* * *

 _Onorevoli colleghi, presto arriveremo all'aeroporto di Toscana..._

One plane switch and about 8 hours later, I had finally arrived. I had managed to sleep for most of the journey, and when I was awake I tried not to think about sitting in a metal can with wings, at 36 000 ft in the air. It was not that I was afraid of the crash, or dying. I think it had more to do with the height than anything else - birds didnt even fly this high, it was simply unnatural.

The air that blew into my face as we disembarked the plane was warm, almost humid. I knew the weather was different, but I thought it would be somehow more oppressive. This was...nice. Beyond the landing strip, you could see rolling green hills, yellow fields and patches of trees. I had changed into t-blue shirt and grey jeans on the plane, discarding my jacket and thick sweater. It would be way too hot for those kind of clothes here anyway - especially since it was at the beginning of summer.

I thought it was going to be a little easier from this point on, but of course I was wrong. When I got to the passport control, there was apparently an issue with my working visa. I tried explaining about my visit, that I was only staying for three months at the most, but the person behind the passport desk wouldnt hear of it. He shook his head repeatedly at me.

"Signora, Im afraid you have filled out the wrong form and must return to your point of embarkment within two days, or you will be forced out of the country. "

jet- lagged, hungry and desperate to crash at the hostel I had booked, this was not what I wanted to hear.

"What?! Cant I just arrange for my visa here in Italy?" I asked, my unruly red hair flying into my eyes, further adding to my exhausted appearance. I was given a sympathetic look, but still the guy shook his head.

"Im sorry, but Im afraid that would be quite impossible. "

Just when I thought that I would be forcefully escorted onto the next plane out of here, a woman completely dressed in black smoothly entered through the security check and approached the desk, high heels clicking as she went. I didn't know much about fashion, but even from here I could tell that those clothes were tailored, expensive. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she never faltered as she handed the security guy what appeared to be visa papers - signed and everything. It made the security guy blink repeatedly, stunned.

" Does this look correct?" she asked clinically, before turning to me with a small smile.

"Miss Sanderson, I apologize for our lapse in information. There are certain working visas that only we have to provide and sign for, sorry for this inconvenience." The woman said, still smiling as I was trying to figure out what was going on.

"I'm sorry, but who are you exactly?" I asked, frowning. She gave me a respectful nod, almost like a bow.

"I am Helena, I was sent by the Volturi Offices to collect you. "

"Collect me?" I asked, pointing to myself stupidly.

"Yes. When you are ready to leave the airport, you will be taken directly to the apartment that has been singled out for you, and tomorrow you will be settled in with the staff – is that acceptable?"

* * *

I followed Helen outside to a black and impossibly chic looking car - rather then her driving, it turns out the car already came with one. Soon, we were driven away from the hustle and bustle of the airport and out into the beautiful italian countryside. Despite the many questions I had for Helen about the Volturi, I smiled.

"I must call the hostel and tell them I won't be staying there." I said after a while, digging out my cell phone from my purse. But Helen only shook her head distractedly, while typing away at breakneck speed on an ipad in her lap.

"That's already been taken care of." That surprised me, since I thought I hadn't told them which hostel I had thought of staying at.

"Oh, Wow. you sure keep track of your employees." I said. Helen abruptly stopped typing and gave me a strange, sharp look.

"We always try to do our best, as I hope will be the same motto for you, Miss." she said seriously. I started a little at her suddenly somber mood, but didn't let it affect me.

"Absolutely, otherwise I wouldn't have come."

Seeming satisfied with my answer, Helen went back to writing on the ipad with the same furious pace. It was about an hours drive to Volterra from the airport, and for awhile I let my mind wander as I looked out the window at the trees passing by. I was almost close to falling asleep, when I remembered.

The necklace. I had forgotten it back home.


	3. Chapter 3

_author's note: I reward you with yet another chapter! You may have noticed that this story is not as comedic as my other Twilight stories, but I hope that won't frighten you away. ;)_

* * *

When Helen had told me that they had rented me an apartment, I did not know what to expect. At best, I figured that it would only be slightly better than the hostel I had found, which was not an issue for me at all – as long as I didn't have to share a bathroom with 15 other guests.

Privately, I thought it was sort of peculiar that she hadn't told me her last name.

We arrived at Volterra late in the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky above our heads. I wasn't sure at first that it was our destination, we had already passed through so many villages at that point. All of them with the same low, brick buildings with flat or slanted red-bricked rooftops. I had seen pictures of it during my research back home, but seeing them like this up close was different.

We passed yet another tall, green hill and there, on the other side of it, was Volterra. It rose up from the ground, the whole village like one and the same building, like a large, ancient castle with a great dome at the very top. It was the same, yet different from the villages I had seen – this one looked untouched by the modern world, by natural disasters or war. It gave you the impression that it would always stay that way – indominable and out of reach.

Helen was watching me stare with awe as we arrived, smiling fondly.

"It's beautiful, is it not?"

* * *

After I had been dropped off with my bags and a key to the apartment, the sleek car drove off further up into the village. Before it had left, Helen had instructed me to wait by my door tomorrow morning, as a colleague of hers would walk with me to the office where I would be working for the next three months or so. It struck me that I still didn't know the particulars of the Volturi company, or what they did, I just knew what I would be doing – taking messages, sorting mail and arranging larger group seminars. I had tried to find out more about Volturi back home, but my internet research came up with nothing.

But it seemed silly to ask this now, so I chose not to for fear of sounding dumb. Perhaps I would find out more tomorrow.

"I hope you have brought with you something more suitable to wear." she had said with some distain, glancing at the clothes I was wearing, as if she wanted to have them burned. I was beginning to realize that Helen was somewhat of a snob. I had never worked in an office before, but I knew that you didn't wear jeans.

"Will a shirt and long skirt be suitable?" I asked. In liu of an answer, she made a disgruntled sound.

"For the time being. Tomorrow I'll have someone come and take your measurements for a more extensive wardrobe."

"Oh, that won't be necessary..."

"It is – besides, all or employees get their clothes specially tailored."

I thought that this was a little too much effort to make for just an intern, but maybe the company was so financially well off that it didn't matter. At least I didn't have to worry about wearing the wrong thing after tomorrow.

* * *

The moment I opened the front door of the apartment, I fully realized just how financially well off the company was. This was not some mere hostel room with leaks and chipping paint for unpaid interns – this was the sort of place royalty would consider acceptable. I usually didn't make a habit of swearing, but this definitely warranted a few chosen words.

"Holy shit." I muttered with awe, looking around with wide, sea-green eyes. When you opened the door, you first stepped into a small foyer – right in front of me was a coat closet, the white door gilded in ornate patterns, painted with gold. The walls were painted a pale egg-shell color, the ceiling decorated with elaborate paintings, also in frames of gold and what appeared to be marble.

The coffee table by the door alone looked expensive and antique enough that it could be placed in a museum. The wood was the color of chestnut, almost as red as my own hair. On top of it was a small blue vase, and a note -

 _Welcome Rebecca Somersten,_

 _We hope that the apartment is to your satisfaction, and that you will enjoy working for us. If at any time, you have a pressing obligation or become sick, you will call the number listed on the back of this card._

The card did not have a signature at the bottom, instead there was a red ink brand – in the shape of a large V, encasing what appeared to be a weapon of arms – a symbol of nobility. It was a pretty symbol, a little intimidating perhaps. I put the note inside my calendar so I could keep the number with me at all times, just in case.

Then I went to explore the rest of the apartment, with an almost childlike sense of curiosity. It turned out that I had a whole living room, a kitchen, a huge bathroom, a bedroom and a balcony all to myself. And all of it was way more luxurious than I was strictly comfortable with. But even I could admit that it would be nice taking a bath in a tub that was large enough to swim in.

"This will take some getting used to." I said to myself, standing on a balcony that had two large pots of roses growing at each corner, white and pink. It overlooked a small courtyard, with its own well-kept garden and small fountain. An old man was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper – and in the building across the way there was an old lady on one of the balconies, shaking the dust out of a large rug. It all looked so peaceful that I couldnt help but smile. Yes, maybe this mad venture of mine wouldn't be so terrible after all.

The next morning after a quick breakfast, as promised, I walked to my first day of work with another Volturi employee. This one was very similar to Helen, but shorter and a brunette – hair put up in a tight ponytail. She also wore a black, fitted business suit and stylish black pumps to match. Makeup perfect and minimal. This one introduced herself as Marion.

I felt a little out of place next to her, in a light blue dress shirt and maroon pencil skirt, flat ballet shoes on my feet. But it did give me an advantage walking on the cobblestones without tripping. I had managed to tame my wild red hair into submission, but decided not to put it up for fear of looking like a horse.

"You may take one hour off for lunch from noon til one o'clock, is that understood?" Marion asked me in italian without looking at me, staring straight ahead. She looked as severe as a military general.

"Yes, I understand." I answered.

"This is your first day so you won't be expected to do much – but I would suggest that you don't start by slacking."

 _Well, a good morning to you to._ I hastily shook my head at her, frowning.

"That was not my intention at all. I have come here to learn and to work." _And maybe to ask what the hell it is that the Volturi does exactly._

That answer seemed to please her, as she gave me a long, considering look.

"Very well. We have had a few mishaps in the past, and this is why I must say this. Our masters do not take kindly to lazy or inefficient employees." I blinked at her odd choise of words.

"Masters?"

"Our bosses, there is three of them. But you will not meet them today, or any other day this week. They are very busy, you understand. Only the head secretary meets with them regularly."

"Oh, I see."

After a short walk, we arrived at the building with the great dome on top. It was by the side of a great piazza, a large fountain at its center. We did not enter the building with the dome, instead we continued past the piazza and went through the heavy oak door of the building opposite from it. Right inside by the entrance, a woman was sitting behind a small desk, and she stood up when we entered, smiling politely. But there was something slightly odd about this, something that I couldn't simply ignore.

"Is everyone hired here female?" I asked carefully, and Marion nodded.

"Mostly, yes."

"Is there a special reason for that?"

"Certainly. Our Masters like to look at beauty, and they find most of that joy in women." she said, like that wasn't strange at all. I made the mistake of scoffing at that, stopping in my tracks.

"What? Are you joking?" I asked, thinking that she would laugh. But no such luck.

The answering glare that Marion shot me as she turned around told me that no, she wasn't. Moving on from the entrance, we walked down a long, dark hallway that eventually opened up at the end, revealing a large and airy room with three desks sitting in the middle of it. One of them was already occupied by a woman busy writing on a laptop. Marion led me to one of the empty desks, pointing at it.

"This will be yours. For starters, you can sort the mail – which is in the room over there." she said, pointing to a room directly connected to this one, the door standing ajar.

"Right, how do you want it sorted?"

"Priority letters in one box, and lesser important ones in another." she explained.

"What about junk mail?"I asked, and for some reason, that made her laugh.

"Oh, we do not have that problem here."

* * *

My first day as a secretary was pretty uneventful, but satisfactory in its own way. There was a lot of mail to sort through, because as Marion had explained to me, the previous intern had left suddenly due to an unexpected illness. I had very little experience working in an office, but even I knew how to sort mail – and before I knew it, the huge pile of letters was steadily shrinking, and divided up in two neat piles and loaded on a cart.

After I was done, Helen came in and took the cart away, nodding at my work with satisfaction. Noon came, and with that my lunch break. There was a small bistro a couple of blocks away, but I had packed a sandwich this morning, vowing to try out the bistro tomorrow instead. I was alone at the piazza, and I quietly went to sit down somewhere to devour my lunch. There was a bench in front of the great building with the dome on top, which was perfect. It was in the shade, which was nice, since I was still getting used to the hot sun.

I ate quietly, watching the (probably) ancient buildings surrounding me, a few piegons drinking from the fountain, the water so clear that it sparkled in the sunlight. Distantly, one could hear people milling about in the streets below, people laughing, a child crying. But other than that, the air was calm, silent.

I was so intent on these distant sounds and sights that it startled me to discover that I was no longer alone. Or rather, the sense that someone was watching me. It felt sudden and intrusive, and I resisted the urge to shiver, despite the heat.

I tried to appear casual, all the while looking around to locate the person. But the piazza appeared empty, no one else here but me. Greatly confused, I finished my sandwich quickly and shucked the garbage in a nearby bin before returning to the office.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: Sorry about the short chapter, I promise the next one will be much longer._

* * *

After lunch, there was some more mail to sort out. The next task was to answer some of them that were not directly addressed to "the masters". I refused to think of them as such, and instead thought of them as my new bosses. Calling them by master made me feel like some sort of slave.

The letters themselves that I got to write responses to were very simple – some of them just bills from the local gardener who tended to the bosses private garden that apparently existed somewhere around here. Another letter was from an auction house in Florence, about a purchase of an antique music box that needed repairs before delivery. As I was writing my replies to these, Helen came to sit at the desk behind me and began writing in a big ledger that looked like it came from medieval times.

I decided that this was a good time to ask about what the company actually did with their business. I cleared my throat and Helen looked up, her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised in question. I unconciously tried to smooth my hair down, something I did when I was nervous.

"You know, this is sort of embarrassing – but Im not really clear on what it is that The Volturi...does. Care to explain?"I asked.

Instead of answering me right away, Helen shared a strange look with the two other secretaries in the room. It looked as if they were suddenly uncertain about something. A long moment passed before Helen looked at me again, her manners completely different from before – her eyes were wide, fearful.

"Why, I thought that it was understood before your arrival." she murmured. I shook my head slightly.

"No, I didn't recieve much information about that particular detail – are they litegators or something? Bankers?" I asked, because that would explain the company's wealth. And why they seemed so withdrawn from the outside world. I fully expected Helen to nod at this, but she was still looking uncertain, pale even. But then Marion suddenly came to stand in front of me, a bright, cheery smile on her face as she approached my desk, eyes gleaming. She put one hand on the back of my chair, obscuring Helen from view.

If I had thought that Marion appeared sedate and military before, now she practically hummed with energy, something barely contained as she regarded me. I couldn't understand what was suddenly so exciting.

"Lawyers, yes, sort of – the company goes back generations. " she answered. Despite her reassuring answer, there was a strange tension in the air. I attempted some small-talk in order to asssure these people that I wasn't snooping, if that was the reason for their sudden strange behavior. I made sure to look very fascinated by what she told me.

"Really, generations? That's interesting."

All the while, Marion did not let me out of sight for a moment, like a snake stalking its prey. Her dark eyes were immovable, unflinching.

"You know, I saw that there's a gap tomorrow morning in their schedules– I think the masters would be very interested in meeting you, Rebecca."

Well, that was unexpected.

"But I thought they would be too busy this week? " I said, since that was what she had told me earlier. Marion continued to smile as she walked away from my desk to sit behind her own, but her dark eyes were still fixed on me.

"Oh, I'm sure they would make an exception to look at some fresh young blood."


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: As always, thanks for reviewing and telling me you like Rebecca. As promised, a longer chapter!_

* * *

By next morning, my newly tailored clothes had arrived. A seamstress had come to the office yesterday afternoon to take my measurements, despite my feeble protests that I did not need, nor could I afford such expensive clothes. But I had been told that it was necessary.

"It will be your company uniform, and as such you will not be charged for it, but required to wear it everyday to work." Helen had explained to my bewildered self. Why would they care about what an intern wore or not?

The clothes came in a large white box, the name of the tailor engraved on it in pressed letters, discreet and stylish. As I opened it and picked up a navy blue suit jacket, I repressed a gasp. Instead of giving me a black suit like the other secretaries had, all of my garments were of various shades of deep blue, the material soft and wonderful. As I put on the full ensemble, navy skirt, the palest blue shirt I'd ever seen, and the jacket on top, I would grudgingly admit that the tailor had done a good job of making the clothing fit me like I'd worn them in already. I didn't usually wear clothes like this at all, but I liked it.

As I turned to face myself in the full lenght mirror on the wall next to my bed, it was like suddenly seeing a different person altogether.

But upon closer inspection, it was still me. There was no hiding my childish freckles, or the awkward slope of my shoulders. My pale skin that almost gained a blueish hue in the dark. I gazed steadily into my eyes, searching for something I did not know how to find. Instead, I saw things I'd rather forget.

No matter how I try to re-arrange my thoughts, when I see myself I know, and I _remember._

* * *

I was nervous about meeting them. Naturally, I wanted to make a good impression. Lucky for me, Marion seemed to have the same thing in mind, giving me several lessons in etiquette as we crossed the piazza and went into the building with the great dome on top – which in my head I'd nicknamed "the palace". The foyer inside was dark, and for a moment I wondered if the electricity had shut down. I blinked against the sudden lack of light, the contrast from coming in from the beautiful summer day.

Completely oblivious to my temporary blindness, Marion continued to prattle on about what to do and what not to do once I met the bosses. She walked up to an elevator, punching in the button and leaned back to wait. I hurried to stand next to her, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere of this building. Even though it was just as cavernous and old as the one we worked in, there was just something about it that gave me the chills. The wall decorations carved in marble looked strange in the dark, the cherubes eyes seemed as if they followed me, their wings too sharp to be gentle.

"...And most importantly, you will not approach them unless they ask you to." And I had not really been listening to what else she had to say, but I made up for it by nodding my head a lot. We got into the elevator and went three floors down.

Their office was in the cellar?

When we arrived and the elevator doors opened, Marion stepped out and walked briskly to the right as I followed after. This floor was not completely underground – light flooded in through windows close to the ceiling, displaying a smaller room where a woman perched behind an expensive looking desk. She rose immidiately when we arrived, plastering on a big smile. But unlike Marion or Helen, she was dressed in a tight-fitting sleeve-less dress with pinstripes. She bowed her head at us gracefully, and I smiled.

" _Bentornato le signore."_ she said in flawless italian, welcoming us.

"Rebecca Somersten is here to see them."

"Yes, she is expected. Show her in."

" _Grazie."_

We went down a hallway with a rounded ceiling, our steps echoing loudly as we went. At the end of the hallway was two large double-doors. Marion leaned forward and pushed them open with ease, despite how heavy they looked. As we entered, I realized with a start where we were. We were inside the dome that you could see from the outside – it was like stepping into a cathedral. I did not know much about architecture, but even I could see how ancient this place must be. The white marble that dominated every surface reminded me of ancient roman palaces. Daylight showered the room from above, so there was little need for electric lights.

As my gaze traveled down from the ceiling, I came face to face with my employees. I realized that I had been staring shamelessy at my surroundings, and quickly averted my gaze to the floor before looking up at them once more, this time steady and sure.

They were not sitting around a meeting table, or behind large desks, smoking cigars or playing mini-golf, the extent of my knowledge of how bosses behaved. Instead, the three of them each had a chair – no, a throne. They were placed like that too – one after the other, next to each other. And it seemed like they also had bodyguards – or guards of some sort, standing behind them. Marian pushes me forward slightly, and I glance back at her, giving her a dirty look.

"Master Aro, Marcus, Caius – this is the young lady. She arrived the day before yesterday."

As Marion said their names, I began looking at them more closely. They did not look italian to me at all – for starters, their skin was even paler than my own, to rival the white marble of the room. The oldest looking one seemed sick and wobegone, almost leaning over in his throne. But the most striking thing of all was the irises of their eyes – they were red. I had only seen that color of eyes on white rabbits, staring at you from their cages at pet shops, eyes wet and glittering.

And all three of them had it. Were they albinos? That would explain the paleness of their skin as well. I was startled out of my thoughts when one of them, the one with jet black hair, suddenly tilted his head to the side and fixed his eyes on me.

 _Fight or flight._ The thought came unbidden, from some place I didn't know I possessed.

But I stayed where I was. Met the man's gaze calmly, and smiled politely. It was like waiting for a baloon to pop.

"You have come a long way to work for us, I understand." The dark haired man said from his throne, and I took that as a cue that he wanted me to answer.

"Yes signore, all the way from Forks, Washington."

The blonde one in the throne to the right scoffs, not making any attempt to hide it either.

"Why is it, that you chose us? Is it because of our culture, the beauty of the countryside?" he asks, but it sounds almost mocking to my ears. I shrug slightly, deciding to answer truthfully.

"A bit of both perhaps, the sun rarely shines where I come from."

Suddenly, the dark-haired man stood up from his throne and clapped his hands together, the sound of it like a clap of thunder in the room, echoing off the walls. It sounds strange when I say it, but when he looks at me, it is as if I can't move. Maybe its his presence, which dominates over the others almost completely.

"And here is paradise? Is that what you think?" he asks, and I cannot understand him at all. It is a almost patronizing question, yet the tone of his voice is soft and lilting. I do my best to answer as he continues to stare at me.

"I don't believe in paradise, signore. I only believe that one should try to find and hold onto what makes them happy."

He flashes a sharp smile, teeth gleaming before it vanishes as suddenly as it appeared.

"Hmm, perhaps." he says, approaching me, holding out his hand for mine. I assume he wants to shake my hand and introduce himself properly. That is why I reach out for his outstretched hand and shake it up and down vigorously, my grip firm and decisive. Yet, when I look into his face, I can see that I have made some sort of critical error, a faux paus. His mouth curls into a sneer, almost animalistic.

His cold hand slips away from mine as if burnt, and he stares at me in a peculiar way. The red of his eyes will never cease to be creepy, I think as I look back at him. They glow from within, translucent enough that I imagine I see flesh, veins and membrane. He quickly recovers from whatever offense was made, before I can even apologize for it, even though I have no idea just how I offended him in the first place.

"You can call me Master Aro. And these two are my brothers, Caius and Marcus. " he gestures to the other two thrones behind him, " We manage Volturi together." I nod at him and his brothers, wondering if they're actually related or if its just a friendly term.

"Well, I hope to serve you as best as I can this summer." I say, and when Aro returns to his throne, Marion ushers me to the door. I guess that this meeting is over then. But just as I'm about the exit through the doors, Caius asks me a question.

"What is your goal ?"

I turn around once more, frowning a little in confusion at him.

"I beg your pardon?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest in an almost unconcious gesture. Caius waves a hand theatrically in the air.

"What do you expect will happen, over the course of the next three months? What is it you want from us?" he asks, and I don't have to think long for an answer. I know what I want, or else I would not have come this far.

"I want to stay and work in europe, at a similar place like this." I say, to which Aro blinks rapidly, as if surprised. I don't know why this is so interesting to them.

"You do not wish to return to america, the place of your birth?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"No, I don't." I say, and I'm surprised by how dark my voice suddenly is. Afraid that what I carry on the inside shows on my face somehow. I glance at Aro, who has not stopped staring at me since I shook his hand.

But if Aro sees my thoughts, he does not seem either repulsed or shocked. Instead he looks like a predator, chasing a tiny mouse through a maze, leaning and listening for the tell-tale heartbeat.

"Why is that?" he asks quickly. But I won't answer. I cannot. I shift my eyes to the floor and keep them there on purpose.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's a bit of a personal matter. I hope you understand."

Its quiet for a moment, and at first I'm almost certain that I've offended them again. But then Aro's voice fills the room once more, soft and understanding.

"Certainly. Now if you'll excuse us, we have another guest waiting. But we'll be seeing you again, very soon."


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Wow, you lucky bunnies are getting another chapter update. Maybe completely and utterly uninteresting to some, but inspiration for this chapter came from the animated movie Britannica's Tales around the world, the Beauty and the Beast segment._

* * *

Over the next couple of days, I soon settled into a routine.

I would wake up at 7 am, have breakfast – sometimes sitting out on the balcony, then I would get dressed and get to the office at around 9. At work, my usual tasks included sorting mail, answering letters, making shipping arrangements for a various assortment of antiques (something I found out that the company also precured and collected in a special building I was not privvy to) and fetching the dry cleaning, and sometimes other secretaries lunches.

Pretty standard internship assignments really.

Maybe it sounds like I found it boring, or tedious. Quite the opposite – this was the first time I truly felt like I maybe could do something else with my life, not related to sports. It was an nice feeling.

At the end of the day, when I got off work, I would take a walk down to the bistro and have dinner (I was fast becoming a fan of their lasagna) or buy some groceries from a small corner shop close to my apartment. I wasn't the best cook, but I did know how to make a simple meal for myself.

Then after dinner, I would put on my training clothes and go for a jog around the village – it was much larger than I first had thought – with roads that felt like they went on for miles, circling the hill the village stood upon, like the rings of saturn. I was slowly becoming aqquainted with the different landmarks, the cathedrals, and the trees with brittle, elongated branches that stretched towards the sky. The dust that would inevitably follow in my trail as I ran, for the earth was dry and almost white in places –yet the nature here was lush, undeterred. Rarely was the air moist, nor did salt cling to my lips or my skin, my hair. Instead what lingered was the heat between my shoulderblades – because no matter how fast you ran, the wind was always warm.

It was good for the muscles, and I was never sore or aching when I got home.

These were the good things about my stay in Volterra.

* * *

But for some reason I did not really understand, the other secretaries from the Volturi tended to avoid me. I had made it very clear that I had no problem understanding their italian, yet I was never included in any conversation, was never invited to eat lunch with them. If I tried to start talking about anything other than work, they would scold me for being inefficient. They often stood apart, whispering and giving me these looks. I knew I wasn't accepted.

Maybe it was childish of me, that this one thing mattered so much. What really mattered more was that I was gaining the experience I knew would look good on a college resume, or any resume for that matter. If I wanted my future to involve me living in Europe, far away from what I had known, then this was the perfect way to get there.

But still, it would be nice to have someone to have lunch with once in awhile.

* * *

The clock struck 12, and as per usual I collected the small paper bag with my lunch in it and left the office in search of somewhere nice to sit and eat. I usually just ate in the shade of the piazza, but sometimes if I felt energized, I would take a brisk walk down to the park a few blocks away. Today I was at my usual spot on the stone bench outside the palace building, packing up my lunch as I admired the various carved images on the walls, close to the slanted rooftops.

I did not understand how people could find them beautiful.

Maybe that sounds strange, but perhaps I don't look at them the right way. What I see is wide, gaping mouths, jagged lips and frowns, eyes that look more dead than alive, full of anger and despair. Add to it that most of the sculptures have decayed partially with time, a nose missing or a limb abruptly torn away. They are fascinating, but not beautiful.

As I sit there, munching on a homemade salad and watching the statues and decorations, I don't see that there is another person suddenly present. But the air goes too still, like it does when someone enters a room. I turn my head, stop chewing as I see who it is.

About five feet away, in the deepest shade of the overbearing structure, stands Aro.

He is almost like one of the statues, almost as pale and immovable. It's slightly unnerving, and I have no idea how long he's been there. Clad in a dark burgundy suit, hair jet black, he looks like an ink stain on a white piece of parchment. Eyes so red, that they could be mistaken for an infection, two gaping wounds. Something that should be covered up.

He is looking at the decorations as well, or at least he appears to be. His eyes remain upward, tracing the lines of some shape I cannot identify. Perhaps he is not looking at them at all.

The paperbag in my hand crinkles, the sound too loud. His eyes move at the noise, and I don't why I should be so alarmed when he's suddenly staring at me.

"Hello 's a nice day, isn't it?" I say, my voice even and careful. I don't know why I feel I need to be, but my instincts are too strong. There's a completely blank look on his face, but at my words it morphs, like a puppet that has suddenly had its strings pulled. He folds his hands together and gives me a courteous nod.

" _Piccolo fiore del Libano._ " he murmurs, _Little flower of Lebanon._

"What?" I ask, and I notice now that I've spilled some salad on my skirt, which I hasten to remove. Meanwhile, Aro walks towards me, until he's right next to the bench, looking down at me curiously.

"You are named after a saint, after all. Did you know that?" he asks smoothly.

I shake my head slowly, swallow another bite of food and look down at the plastic container awkwardly in my hands, once again feeling like I don't know anything. There's an awkward silence between us that I do not know how to break. I am looking down at my lap, yet I see his dark figure move out of the corner of my eye, sitting down on the bench next to me. He folds his hands gracefully in his lap, turning his eyes away from me to stare straight ahead, which makes it easier to face him. Perhaps he knows how unnerving his apperance can be, and tries to make up for it.

"How are you settling in?" he asks then, and I sag with relief. I nod at his question, playing with the plastic fork in my hand.

"Good. I like it here a lot, sir." I say. He's looking at my salad now, glaring at it as if it has commited some personal offence to him. His pale fingertips drum against his thigh, a steady rhythm. He glances up at me before returning his gaze to the view.

"And the accomodations have been satisfactory?" he asks, and I notice how he tends to shift from talking with a high-pitched voice, to an almost ridiculously dark and somber one. Right now it is the latter.

"Yes, everything has been great." I say, which is true – well almost.

"So why is it, that you still eat lunch here by yourself everyday?"

I go silent. I don't know how to answer him, and I dont want to make stupid accusations about the others. If someone doesn't like you, its not something that can be forced. Yet, he is right – I haven't wanted to admit it to myself, but I am lonley here, in Volterra. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, watching doves drink from the fountain and an old man with a cart full of fresh vegetables wheel by.

Aro coughs, like he has something stuck down his throat.

"Florence offers plenty of diversions." he says, and it sounds like he's trying very hard not to say something else. I turn to him and frown, thinking over his words. He meets my gaze, almost lazily so. His eyes are half-lidded, but focused.

"But I cannot have lunch there and make it back here on time." I say, and he shrugs, makes a vague gesture with his hand in the air. A sliver of it touches the sunlight, and it must be a trick of the light, because for a split second, light gleams back from his hand, almost like a prism.

I hasten to eat some of the bread I packed, hunger obviously making me delusional.

"You should go there on the weekend. Who knows, you might make new friends." he says, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, but his voice is kind.

Despite the weirdness of the situation, my boss giving me unexpected advice, the advice itself was not a bad one at all. I had yet to explore Florence, and perhaps there would be venues there where I could meet people, perhaps even hang out. That was a big part of these internships overseas after all – getting in touch with another culture, and meeting new people. I smile to myself, then at Aro.

"That's actually not a bad idea. Thank you for that, Signore." Aro nods at my words, but stops midway, looking at something ahead, his whole body tense. I turn to see what it is. A small boy from across the piazza is staring at him. His mother's back is turned, talking on the phone loudly in italian. There's something about the boy that has Aro looking well, strange. He looks back at the boy with a defiant gleam in his eyes, even though he has begun to stand up from the bench, taking a step back into the shade. There is almost something like fear in his eyes, and his hands are no longer completely still at his sides.

"Anything to make a transition easier. " he murmurs, then he disappears inside.

The only item left of my lunch is an apple, bright red. Its sitting on the bench where Aro was just sitting and when I reach for it, I realize that its the exact same shade of his eyes.


	7. Trip to Florence Part I

_Author's note : sorry for the delay, and welcome back to another episode of OMG WILL SHE DIE? Well, the verdict is still unclear. Thank you for all the kind reviews and hope you enjoy the read!_

* * *

"What is that?" Helen was leaning over my shoulder, looking at the screen of my laptop. There wasn't much to do on this particular friday, so I decided to do some internet research for my weekend excursion to florence. I thought Helen would disapprove, but she just appeared curious. I pointed at the screen, explaining.

"It's an article about the street market in Piazza Santo Spirito, I thought I would stop by there on saturday. "

At the words _street market,_ Helens face went through a series of bizarre facial expressions, as if she had swallowed a whole lemon and was having problems with digesting it. She cocked her head at me and yes, now she was looking at me with disapproval. Back to familiar territory once again. She took a deep breath, massaged her temple with erratic, perfectly manicured fingers.

"You are currently living close to the cultural capital of the world, home to the finest in perfumes, art, fashion and antiques – and you wish to visit a flea market?" she hissed and whispered at the same time, as if she couldnt bear for the other secretaries to hear our conversation.

We stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then I smirked, shrugging as I scrolled down on the website casually as I answered her loudly.

"Actually, its a street market."

Behind me, I could hear Helen hiss and curse something in italian that I couldn't quite translate to english.

" _Pazzo donna_ , it looks like I will have to go with you. _Somebody_ around here needs to show you around..." Well, that was the first time I've ever been called crazy in another language. Then I caught up to what she actually said, turning around in my chair to watch her stalk out of the office with her suit jacket over her shoulder, the other secretaries staring after her. I blinked, shrugging to myself.

"Uhm, okay?"

* * *

While it had been an immense surprise that Helen had wanted to accompany me, it was a good thing because now I didn't have to take the bus to Florence, instead we could borrow one of the company owned cars for the day.

Thank god for air conditioning.

However, it was a little awkward spending time with the likes of Helen – especially since I knew that it was under obligation rather than actually wanting to go. I had forgone my work clothes for the ones from my own wardrobe, a short sleeved grey henley and a long floral skirt. My shoes were a pair of discount ballet flats from the airport and my bag was an old school satchel that was really too worn to be used, but I couldnt bear to throw it away. It was sitting in my lap, and I couldnt have felt more like a kid compared to Helen.

She was of course dressed as always in her business suit, a pair large gucci sunglasses obscuring her sharp eyes, black pumps on her feet with red soles.

As we drove off, me sitting in the front passenger seat and Helen driving, an uncomfortable silence settled between us until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Honestly, you didn't have to come with me – but I appriciate it, i really do." I said really fast, just in case she would be offended. I gulped, daring to glance over at the drivers seat.

I could feel Helen looking at me, even though her head didn't turn. She swallowed, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Her head tilted towards me, her mouth open but no words didn't come immidiately.

"Miss Somersten, I feel like we owe you an apology. We don't usually communicate much with foreigners, and we have our special reservations about _americans._ "

At first I was only offended when she said this – but then I remembered all those american tourists that would wander around Volterra, asking where the closest Mcdonalds was instead of eating at any of the already available restaurants, not cleaning up after themselves, or complaining about the heat.

"I guess I can see why that is." I said, nodding. Helen sighed.

"What I'm trying to say is that it was not warranted around you. And as our intern, we have to show you the respect that you are entitled. " All of this was said with some amount of reluctance, but it sounded truthful. I blinked, surprised at the apology.

"Well, thank you." I said, not knowing what else to say. Helen looked over at me and smiled, not a cool or detached one, but genuine.

"You're welcome, _donna_."

* * *

I managed to convince Helen to come with me to Piazza Santo Spirito, albeit after I promised to forfeit after to her customized tour of Florence, the way she believed it should be experienced. I mentally thanked myself for packing two bottles of sunscreen, since my pale freckled skin was still not used to the strong sunlight. Having said that, my nose would probably still be tinged red by the end of the day.

After I had found (and bargain for) a beautiful but simple necklace at the market which I intended to send to Lana as a souverneir, we went to a nearby bistro for a cup of coffee and some lunch. I hadn't really tried italian coffee before, but found it to be quite good. I made a mental note of buying some to keep at the apartment. While I had been busy thinking of this, Helen had been staring me down, hand continously stirring her coffee. I sat back a little, tensing under her gaze.

"What?" I asked, thinking that I had a stain on my face or clothes. She smiled mysteriously, then drained the last of the coffee from her cup.

"Oh nothing, I just know what we're going to do next."

After we had paid for ourselves and left the cafe, Helen led the way to a smaller, less busier district of the city, over the _ponte vecchio_ bridge that overlooked the arlo river. We were now at the north side of the city, where the winding streets were more like tunnels, rarely opening up to any space bigger than a tin can. There were barely any people here, the shops and venues fewer and fewer. The shops that we did pass by looked like expensive boutiques, most of them closed for the siesta. Just as I thought that the tunnel would continue on forever, I saw it ending up ahead. It opened up to another sunny little square, lined with plane trees.

But that's not where we went – instead Helen stopped in front of a shop with a lacquered black wooden door and turned to wait for me to catch up. There was a big display window next to it, with the words O _norato Custode Di Stelle_ embellished in gold letters on it. Most of the window was tinted, therefore obscuring what was inside. No light from inside was visible at all.

"What is this?" I asked, a small frown on my face. Helen stepped closer and laid a hand lightly on the door, beginning to push it open as a bell chimed above her head. She glanced over at me with a peculiar smile, as if she was going to play some sort of trick on me. But I'm sure that was only my overactive imagination.

"It's a surprise – come on, it'll be fun."

I didn't immidiatly follow her, instead I lingered on the street, my head turned to watch the beautiful square up ahead of us, bathed in sunlight. It was cool in the shade, but it felt like the wrong choice, and for a moment I wanted to ditch Helen and go on ahead without her. I don't know why this sudden urge came over me.

But as soon as it had come, it passed – I was too curious, and I wanted Helen to like me, approve of me. With a slight push to the door, I walked inside the shop.

* * *

The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was inside - all the noise from the city surrounding us was muted, exiled.

Then I noticed the rest of the shop, and almost gasped at the beauty of it. The exterior of it was certainly deceiving, since the inside was much bigger - at least if you considered the depth. Rows and rows of glass displays lined every wall, dust gathering over some of them. Just like my apartment, it also had a decorated ceiling, a medieval scene with forest animals. The wallpaper on the walls were of a deep emerald green, almost black. Every display case were modestly lit, inside them laid jewelry of every kind there was - but all of it looked expensive, as if meant for royalty. I was beginning to wonder what we were doing here.

Another thing that caught my notice was how unkempt the place was - the dust gathering on top of the display cases, the grime on the edges of the floor. As if it had been abandoned and forgotten about, untouched by anyone else since. But how could that be, and why hadn't anyone looted the place?

I was still rooted to the spot just inside the door when Helen noticed me and beckoned me closer to the displays.

"Rebecca, come here."

She put her hand on a desk bell that stood on a small wooden counter squished in-between the cases, its ringing interrupting the strange silence that dominated the shop. So someone did work here then? Perhaps it was the ghost of christmas past.

Turns out I wasn't far off from the truth - a man glided in through an open door I hadn't seen before. He was paler than death, and if I wasn't already applying my imagination to this place, I could have sworn that his eyes were red, not brown. He was a tall man, much taller than the men who ran the Volturi. He had a long, slightly wrinkled face that looked as if it had seen its fair share of troubles - but when he saw us he beamed, a polite smile on paper-thin lips. He looked starved, parched of life.

 _"From the Volturi? You are always welcome."_ he said to us in italian, bowing his head with respect. Helen did not return the smile.

"I came to see about the order, is it ready yet?" She asked briskly, and the man nodded. His eyes went to me for the first time, considering and curious.

"Certainly. It is for this young lady, is it not?" Helen nodded at this, holding up her hand on the counter with her palm up.

"Yes. You can bring it over here, if you please." she said, and the man disappeared through the door. He quickly returned with a small black box, and placed in reverently in Helens outstretched hand. To my immense surprise, instead of putting the box in her handbag, she instead handed it over to me. I took it from her carefully, not understanding at first.

"It is an important gift to you." she said, and my eyes shot up to stare at her in surprise.

"For me? "I asked.

"Open it up, you'll understand."

I did as she instructed, carefully removing the black lid to peer inside. Secretly I hoped that it was a bottle opener, or a key chain. Instead I saw what really was there, a thin golden chain, long enough that I realized it was a necklace - and hanging from this chain was a small golden disc. It had ornate patterns engraved into it, framing a letter that stood at its center - the letter V. It was the most beautiful piece of jewellery I had ever been given. But it really was too much.

"I- Helen this is...its beautiful but I cannot accept it. Volturi has already given me so much, this really isn't necessary..." But Helen was having none of it, her once pleasant face now turned to stone.

"No, this is for you and no one else." she said, and I shook my head, not understanding.

"Don't think that I'm not grateful, but why?"

"If anyone sees you wear this, they will respect you. You see?" She asked, holding up an almost identical necklace from around her own neck. Seeing my questioning gaze, she continued. "Think of it as a good luck charm, no harm can come to you while you wear it."


	8. Trip to Florence Part II

After we left the jewelry shop, Helen suddenly remembered that she had something to pick up from the post office, and so we went there on foot (Helen refused to take the bus, even though it seemed as if her feet were aching by now). The post office was by _via degli Arazzieri,_ just around the corner to one of Florence biggest museums, the _San Marco_ museum. There was also a botanical garden nearby, and as we passed by, my gaze lingered longingly on several park benches and the soft looking grass.

Helen was busy talking rapidly on the phone, speaking in in italian so fast and fluent that it wasn't even possible for me to understand all that she said, but going by her tone of voice, something or someone was making her quite irate.

I cleared my throat politely, and she looked at me with fire in her eyes.

"Uhm, is it okay if I wait for you in the gardens over there while you go to the post office? I feel like resting in the shade for awhile." I said, and Helen blinked a few times before she replied in a hurry.

"What? Oh yes, of course. I'll be back very soon." she said, walking away as she was talking, her feet as quick as the speed of her voice.

* * *

Sighing with relief, I calmly crossed over the road and entered the gate of the gardens, an old iron fence surrounding it. Not that I didn't appriciate the company, but Helen seemed like a person who did not know when or how to slow down. And I hadn't really had the chance to see the city without being influenced by someone else.

White gravel crunched under my feet as I walked in, taken aback by the beauty of this place – it wasn't very big, but big enough to loose yourself from the busy crowd right outside the gates. Since it was a botanical garden, there was a mix of trees and flowers – plane trees already familiar to me, but also palm trees, orchids, ferns, cactuses and even some peculiar looking ones that I had never seen before. Everything was planted close together, giving you almost a sense of walking into a maze. Thick hedges obscured the view of the streets outside, effectively closing off any sign of urban activity. It was very peaceful here, and I had not met a single person so far.

Every new fork in the walkway was marked by a statue. Some of them were made of simple plaster and were not very remarkable, while others looked older, and made of marble or stone. As I continued my walk, I fished out the new necklace from around my neck and studied it, my water colored eyes squinting against the sunlight. It was made of real gold.

"A good luck charm huh?" I asked myself aloud, my voice sarcastic. It didn't sit right with me, these expensive gifts that I was receiving. I was just doing the job of an intern, and yet they felt the need to spend so much money on me. Or maybe it was just another drop in the ocean to them, that it meant nothing at all. I knew what the letter V stood for, I wasn't that dumb. It was the company logo, same as on all their postal papers.

Giving this necklace to me, was in a way branding me, marking who I belonged to – even if it was just on a base level. That was why it I didn't like it. I longed for my other necklace, the one I had not been able to find back home before I left.

I turned a corner in the garden, my hand skimming the leafes of a nearby tree. In front of me a small pool stood, its murky waters filled with seaweed and moss. This part of the garden seemed somewhat neglected, and stood in the shade of the trees above, only glimpses of light peeking through.

My hands suddenly felt cold, so I clenched them against the fabric of my shirt, trying to seek warmth. I was trying not to think about why I was feeling this way, why this knot in my stomach had appeared. I was good at hiding, at not even thinking about it – but the feelings were always there. I could never run from them, I had tried that too many times.

Anger was good. I could live with that.

It was actually a good thing, forgetting that necklace. I didn't need it, not the way a person should need something like that.

Nobody should be owned by someone else – that's what they teach you at school, when you're little.

But it has no meaning, not really. Some people are just lucky not to experience it. I was not lucky. I had never been -

 _"Rebecca! "_

* * *

My head snapped out of the dark path my thoughts were leading me, the dark water in the pool so much a reflection of my own self that I was surprised to see another living person. I turned around, Helen standing a few feet away, phone in hand and a frustrated look on her face, her hand tapping restlessly against her side.

"Come on, its time to head back to Volterra." she said, motioning for me to follow as she walked us back outside on the busy street, exiting the gardens. She looked stressed and I had to ask if anything had happened while I was gone. She exhaled heavily while looking down at her phone, a deep-set frown on her beautiful, tanned face.

"Work, as usual. The masters called about an emergency."

"What sort of emergency?" I asked as we walked back to the car. Helen shrugged.

"Apparently something to do with place settings for an upcoming dinner party. Lots of important guests coming in, lots of preparations to do."

That made me stop on the sidewalk to stare at her, a look of utter disbelief in my face.

"And they called you in on a saturday for that?" I exclaimed, earning a few looks from people passing by. Helen did not like that, grabbing me by the arm, shaking it slightly as if scolding a disobedient child. Her brown eyes were dark as she looked at me, and I knew that I had once again said the wrong thing.

"Rebecca, I need you to understand something. I've been trying to make this clear to you before, but this company is special, and so are the men that control it. They rely on us for so much, and it is _very important_ that we do exactly as they wish. Is that understood?" she asked, and I quickly nodded, not wanting her to be mad at me for long. But I still found it very odd.

"Yeah, I understand." I said clearly, and she let me go and we continued walking back to the car. But she was eyeing me in a way that was making me uncomfortable, but I tried to just shrug it off.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: This chapter took forever to write. Will Rebecca survive once again? Read on and find out!_

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed by without any more strange events. On sunday I spent most of the day at home, cleaning the apartment and doing some of my laundry, since the apartment also came equipped with a washer and a dryer in the bathroom. Since the air was still warm at night, I decided to leave my balcony doors open when I slept.

Usually, the village was pretty quiet at night and I was never disturbed. But this night, I kept hearing a strange noise. It never sounded close, but as if it came from a few blocks away from my apartment building, echoing off the walls. It was the sound of footsteps, that never seemed to cease – like someone walking on a road that never ended.

* * *

The next morning, I dismissed these strange noises as nothing but a dream. It was not the first time I had been hearing things in my sleep, thinking they were real.

At work, things were going about as usual – most of the more important tasks went to the other two more experienced secretaries, while I did the stuff that they seemed to dread more than anything – paperwork. It was mostly the business of signing bills and letters of credit, answering simple questions from the official Volturi website.

Yes, they had that as well. It was kind of obscure and hard to find, the design of it sleek and modern. There was not much on the actual page, mostly just basic information about the Volturi and the history of Volterra, and a link to a tourist site offering guided tours through the large building in which the three bosses of the company had their offices. Usually, the site would recieve questions from curious foreginers, and I would do my best to answer them.

This, along with fetching the dry cleaning, food for the rest of the staff and sorting the mail properly, was enough to keep my busy. Sometimes if there was an italian word that I was unfamiliar with (it didn't happen often, thank god) Helen would provide an accurate translation for me. So it came as a surprise when Marion suddenly presented me with a new task. She rarely spoke to me, which I was secretly grateful for.

"I need you to fetch a book from the main library." she said, her voice cold.

"We have a library?" I asked, and she predictably glared at me.

"Yes, we do. But it is only to be utilized by the Masters, except for circumstances like this. I need a book from their personal archives – book number 543. It will be on the second floor, on the right side of the room. Do not touch anything else while you're there."

I just stared at her, not comprehending her directions at all. And yet I knew that if I said so, she would have a fit about me being a dumb american. Sighing, I nodded at her and got up from my desk.

"Of course, I'll get it right away."

* * *

I knew where the library was located – in theory. Once I had accompanied Helen there, but been told to wait outside while she fetched something important that I wasn't authorized to look at. What I did know was that the library was somewhere in the "palace" building, across the piazza from where the secretaries worked. Actually, I had read on the volturi website that it was not a palace, but a former medieval stronghold – which had been rebuilt twice since then, which would account for the mix of different architectural styles.

When I stepped through the main entrance, there was a set of elevators up ahead. If I remembered correctly, Helen and I had walked down a set of stairs and walked down a narrow hallway. I walked closer to the elevators and saw that beyond that there was a sudden drop in the floor – a staircase. I shrugged to myself, figuring I had nothing to loose at this point.

"Well, looks like I'm going down then."

I followed the stairs one floor down, and entered a hallway much like the one above – except there was very few sources of light here. There were a few shaded wall-lamps, but they did not do much other than create shadows over everything the sparse light touched.

The floor was polished stone, and despite great care looked cracked and old in some places. I looked from the right to the left of the hallway, trying to remember which way Helen and I had walked last time. I cursed under my breath, regretting that I hadn't asked Marion for specifc directions after all. You could easily get lost in a place like this.

I took a chance and walked to the right, where there seemed to be a source of light from under one of the closed wooden doors. If it wasn't the library, perhaps someone inside this room could tell me where it was located. The door (like most of them down here) was wide and heavy looking, and reminded me of the double doors leading to the main office of the Volturi leaders. It took a bit of strenght to push it open, but it was worth it for what greeted me on the other side.

I recognized the large room immidiatly, having taken an earlier glance inside. The main library had two floors, but no ceiling that seperated them – the room was hollowed out. Instead there were two seperate spiral staircases on either side of the first floor, built into the wall, leading up to a circular walkway lined with a stone railing. And just like all other libraries I had visited back home – this one too was dusty, and it didn't take long for me to sneeze as I walked into the room. But I had to admit that it was beautifully arranged, almost academic in order. The layout was much like any public library, except all tables, shelves, chairs and lights reflected evertyhing I had come to expect from the Volturi – expensive, well-made and extravagant.

Now, it was just a matter of finding that book.

On the second floor, she'd said – on the right side. But which side was the right one? There were four sides of the room in total, and depending on which way you stood, the "right side" could be any of them. What made matters harder was the fact that there were no labels on any of the shelves – you had to know from years of familiarity to know where certain books were.

This is when I realizes that Marion was having a laugh at my expense.

Anger sparked inside me, hot and untempered. Why was she antagonizing me like this? Wasn't it good enough for her that I already felt out of place? But then, I always felt that way. I wondered if that would ever stop.

What I did know was that if I went back there now, there was no telling what I would _do_ to her. Slapping her wasn't good enough. I wanted to tear her perfect hair out and have her choke on it. I wanted to drag her out into the streets and fight her, make sure that her head hit the cobblestones when she lost.

But that was only a fantasy – I didn't do things like that anymore. At least I tried not to. My hands flexed as I paced between the shelves, the musky smell of old paper hitting my nostrils as I tried to calm down.

Back in Forks, people knew about me. They knew that i was easily angered, and students at the high school were either scared or provoked by that. It resulted in more than one fight on campus, but since I was into sports, I was rarely punished – maybe a detention here and there. But I was not that person any more, not here.

Suddenly, a rhytmic sound entered the silence of the great room. It took me a moment to realize that it was the sound of pages turning in a book.

I was not alone in the library.

* * *

With much reluctance, I stepped out from behind the tall shelf I was hiding, locating the source of the noise. My eyes widened noticably when I saw none other than Aro sitting by one of the many work desks, idly turning pages in an old, worn book. When I stepped out, his peculiar eyes slowly left the book and settled on me. He looked the same as before, but the dim lights made his skin more normal, less snowy white.

It was not like our encounter last week. Before, it had been so tense, and I had been anxious and almost afraid. But here in the library, something had changed. He looked very much at home in here, like he belonged. Instead of closing the book and getting up to talk to me, he let the book remain open on his lap and remained where he was.

"Ah, play a little trick on you, did she?" he asked, and I stuttered on my own tounge.

"What?" I asked, and he smiled knowingly.

"You look lost. What did she send you down here for?" he asked, his dark voice suprisingly gentle. I fidgeted with my hands, before hiding them behind my back.

"A book."

His eyes widened.

"Really, in here?" he asked in a sort of mock-serious tone, and I realized that he was joking. It was so unexpected that I could not but help answering the grin on his face with one of my own. He resumed reading directly after that, and I realized that it was now or never – I decided to ask him.

"Book 543, on the right side?"

Without moving his eyes from the page, he pointed upwards to a shelf right behind him on the second floor. I nodded, walking up the stairs to the second level.

" _Grazie mille Signore."_ I said as I walked away, not looking back to see his reaction.

* * *

After that, it did not take long for me to find it. While I searched, I could still hear him down below – the sound of pages being turned once in awhile and the sound my breathing the only two sources of sound in the room. After I had found the book on one of the lower shelves, I stood up and intended to leave. But then, I heard his voice. I looked down at him from over the railing, his eyes not on the book on his lap, but on some point in the distance, his head turned.

"While you're up there, would it be a terrible inconveniecne to ask you to also bring down another book?" he asked me politely. I didn't see any reason not to do this for him, since he had already helped me – and he was my boss, one of them anyway.

"Not at all, which one?" I asked.

" _The Time Machine,_ H.G Wells."

The title was distantly familiar, maybe it had been a point of discussion at school – but I didn't know much more about it. Luckily, I didn't have to ask where it was, since it was conveniently sitting on the same shelf as the book Marion wanted. It was a heavy book – the cover was absurdly simple, colored an almost dirty beige. On the center of it, imprinted in purple ink, was a stylized egyptian sphinx.

I grabbed it as well and brought it down to his desk. He stared at it in silence and I stood there, a bit uncertain of what I should do. But I recovered quickly, remembering my role as secretary.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked politely, making sure to smile.

"Yes, there is one thing..." he began, once again flickering through the open book, not looking at me.

"What is it?" I asked, thinking that he would ask me to fetch something else. Instead he pointed at _The Time Machine_ that was now sitting on the desk.

"Read it for me."

I looked between him and the book, not understanding what he was playing at.

"What?" I asked, my eyes round and confused. But this didn't deterr him.

"The book. I want you to read it." he said, demanding. I frowned as I looked at him, fearing that this was another cruel joke - a trick of some sort. I rested a hand against the cover, as if that would reveal anything.

"…May I ask why?"

He shrugged elegantly, turning another page. His eyes flickered up to meet mine for a moment, but they were muted, hard to read.

"It is a really good book. I want to hear what you make of it." he said, making me feel frustrated, tired of trying to find meaning.

"….that doesn't really answer my question, _signore._ "

He looked directly at me then, the intensity of his eyes somewhat calmed by the shadows in the room. I got the feeling that he did not speak to his staff often like this.. A hesitant smile painted his lips, almost a little manic. But it looked genuine, almost shy.

"I think you will like it, that is all."

His simple answer stirred something in me, and made me fall silent as I carefully picked up the book, hugging it close to my chest.


	10. Dinner Part I

_Author's Note : Okay people, trigger warnings ahead for suicide stuff and sexual assault (not in this chapter specifically, but it's coming)_

* * *

According to statistics, around 4000 people in the US drown each year. I know this because it was part of the suicide prevention plan at school. The teachers handed out pamphlets to everyone at the beginning of term and most of us shucked them in the garbage.

Instead I read it once, twice, three times. I don't know why.

After nightfall,the apartment was cloaked in blue shadows – the beautiful tapestries and painted ceiling rendered into something less innocent and regal.

My head submerged under water in the bath, my red hair swirled around my face like seaweed. It's a typical exercise for athletes to hold their breath under water for long periods of time. Back when I was still allowed on the swimming team, it was a regular part of every lesson. You can hold your breath for around 2 minutes, though the world record still holds at 20 minutes. But of course we competed, to see which one of us could do it for the longest.

I liked it better under water. It was a different world that I sometimes glimpsed, full of peace and quiet. A world which others took for granted, but one I could only see when I stayed at the bottom of the pool. When I looked up towards the surface, I would only see my own reflection – and I looked almost normal, like this, down here. Then a rugged hand, shattering the silver sheen – grabbing for me.

 _Rebecca stop it. That's enough!_

Gasping, I reached the surface, pulling my head above the warm water in the tub. My hands were gripping its sides, water sloshing over the edge and onto the tile. Two minutes and fifty seconds.

A new personal record.

* * *

I tried to read the book that Aro had lent to me. But it was complicated, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it – the language wasn't the problem (it was in english, first edition) but I had too many questions, and the scientific jargon too complex.

Instead I placed it on the hall table in my apartment like an ornament, the eye of the purple inked sphinx glaring me down everytime I passed it. I didn't tell the other secretaries about it, since Marion had explicitly warned me not to touch any of the books.

The book was a secret that only me and Mr. Aro knew about. I didn't know how to feel about that – and frankly, I thought he had already forgotten all about it.

* * *

On Tuesday, I arrived at work to find all the employees (not just the secretaries) hurrying around, a catering truck was parked outside our office building and a woman was rolling in a long silver clothing rack, from which hung several dry-cleaning bags for expensive suits and capes. I almost bumped into Helen on my way in, who had her hands full of paperwork and a phone pressed to her ear. She blinked when she saw me, as if she hadn't expected to see me today at all.

"Hey Helen, what's going on?"I asked, gesturing to the commosion around us. She looked around as well, sighing, her voice a little weary and her eyes bloodshot. But otherwise, she looked as pressed and pristine as she normally did.

"Maybe you remember that emergency last weekend? Well, this friday we're going to host a company dinner party. It's a bit of a tight schedule, but it'll have to work." she said, shrugging a little. It felt unfair of me not to offer my assistance, so I did.

"Oh, is there something I can do?" I asked. Helen suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if I had asked something inapproriate.

"Erhm, well…." she murmured, but did not get to say anything else before Marion appeared beside her, a smarmy smile on her lips as she stared at me.

"As a matter of fact, there is. We need someone to stand by the entrance to the dining room, to make sure all the guests feel welcome when they enter. " she explained in a curt voice. I crossed my arms over my chest, staring back at her, trying to see if she was lying.

"I can do that. Will I require a special outfit?" I asked, and Helen seemed grateful to step in this time, before Marion had anything further to say. She had a clipboard in her hand, an ipad attached to it, from which she showed me a recent order from some high-end tailor in Florence.

"It's already been taken care of – a selection of suitable dresses will be delivered to your apartment tomorrow, and you can choose any of those to wear. "

But of course, Marion wasn't going to let anything stay cheerful. Her eyes left my face to stare unabashedly at my wild, red locks on top of my head.

"But your hair..." she muttered in consideration, and I frowned, unconciously taking a menacing step towards her, like an unspoken challenge.

"What about my hair?" I asked sharply. Thank god for Helen. Her arm came between us, pointing at something outside the building as she spoke louder than necessary.

"Marion, isn't that the carpenter that you've been after, the one who overprized his services?" she asked, and Marions beady eyes widened before she took off without another word out the door. We both watched her leave for a few minutes, before Helen sighed and turned to me with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. You have lovely hair." she said, and I touched it self-conciously, laughing awkwardly.

"I don't think she likes me." I said, and Helen nodded casually.

"You very well may be right about that – but I like you. Don't worry about friday night, you'll do fine."

Before I left the main hall and went to my desk, I noticed another van outside unloading hospital equipment to the building opposite ours – the one that belonged to the leaders of the Volturi.

* * *

The day of the dinner party arrived quickly.

I had been allowed to leave work early that day to prepare for the event – so I went home and took a long shower, washed my hair and put on one of the dresses that had been ordered for me. There were three of them – all in a different shade of blue. Two of them were much shorter, cut over the knee. I didn't have a problem with showing skin, but I had rarely seen any of my collegaus wearing anything so revealing.

Instead I opted for the third dress – a cobalt blue gown made of silk, skirt almost long enough to touch my ankles – it was sleeveless and boatnecked – emphazising the white column of skin from my collarbone to my long, thin neck. The shade went well with my auburn hair, which I decided to put up in a low-hanging ponytail. Finally, I put some mascara on my lashes and filled in my brows, then put on some lipgloss.

At the last minute I decided against wearing high heels, since I would look like a fool trying to walk with them on the cobblestoned streets. After checking my reflection one last time in the bathroom mirror, I switched off all the lights and left the apartment.

I arrived at the party ten minutes later, a few guests already loitering outside the main entrance. There was no sign out front that the party was here, but I knew by now that Volturi liked to do things discreetly. What was less discreet was all the black cadillacs and expensive sports cars suddenly filling up the small parking area next to the piazza – if not for those cars, the piazza was just as quiet as usual around this time of night.

I had been informed that the dinner would be held in a room opposite from where the leaders worked, which was two floors down by elevator. When I got there, Marion was already greeting a couple of guests that had arrived, standing by the open doors. She was wearing a deep red bodycon dress of thick satin, and high heeled shoes in the same shade. I approached her cautiously, but when she saw me, she smiled brightly.

"Ah, here she is – Rebecca Somersten, our intern from overseas."

I turned to the three guests she had been talking to, two men and a woman. Even though they looked like something I had been expecting – wealthy, businesslike and also dressed in fine clothes – one of the men was significantly less pale than the other, like he has actually spent some time in the sun. He was the only one to shake my hand aimably, sending me a cheerful smile and a wink.

"Well done young lady, there isn't many young people who dare to cross an ocean for an internship these days." I was somewhat surprised to hear that he was an american, like me.

"Thank you sir."

"Mr Thornton here is one of our many lawyers. " Marion explained to me, still smiling but not looking at me anymore. The other two guests observed our interaction quietly, each of them holding a glass of burgundy wine that looked untouched. They kept staring at me in particular. Then one of them, the woman, put her arm around Mr Thornton's, and he looked down and smiled at her briefly before nodding at us.

"I'll be seeing you later Ms Somersten, have a good night."he said, before following his female companion inside the dining room – long tables lined every side of the four walls, covered in white linen cloths, crystal glasses and polished silverware placed meticulously on them. But there was something missing.

"Where is the food?" I asked Marion. She answered me as she stepped into the elevator, a blank look on her face.

"The caterers will bring it in from the kitchen, later."

* * *

Shortly after, the rest of the many guests started to arrive. My job was to stand by the doors, smile and occasionally bow slightly when they entered. And help them to find the right room, on occasion. I had no idea that it was going to be so many people arriving – from what the others had told me, it was going to be a small affair. But then, it was more logical if I thought back on how stressed all of them had been during the week in preparation for this.

I was glad for my choice of dress, since many of those arriving were also dressed in fine evening gowns or dresses meant for a ball – and the men were equally dressed, some even coming in tuxedos. A few musicians had arrived, and had begun playing music in the dining room – which echoed between the stone walls. It was the sort of music I had rarely heard, and it took me a long while to recognize that someone was playing on a harpsichord.

I did not see any of the leaders of Volturi enter the room, but soon enough I heard one of their voices speaking above the din of people talking, who fell silent. I had not heard him speak often, but I believed it was Caius.

"I would like to bid you welcome, and hope that you will find the evening to be a fruitful one..."

As he was speaking, my head turned to try and look inside, I did not notice that another guest had arrived. Someone put their hand on my shoulder, and I instantly turned around.

I came face to face with a man dressed in a dark navy three piece suit, whose eyes were just that strong shade of brown bordering on red that I had seen in so many people here in Volterra. But instead of passing me by, he simply stood there and smiled expectantly at me, eyes roving over parts of my body. There was something in his eyes that told me to be careful.

" _The dinner is in there sir."_ I said in italian, gesturing to the open doors. But still, he stood there and looked at me. I was starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable.

"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked, thinking that maybe he needed to know where the bathroom was. He continued to smile and stare at me, then out of nowhere, brought up his hand to touch my cheek. It was so unexpected that I didn't have time to step back.

" _Such a beautiful, beautiful girl..."_ he murmured in a deep voice, hand still on my cheek. I blinked several times, shocked. Then as soon as it had happened, he moved his hand away and entered the dining room without looking back.


	11. Dinner Part II

_Author's note: For the record, I had no intention for this story to get so dark - but by this point it has a mind of its own and I'm just a dog on a leach. Again, trigger warning for unhappy stuff ahead._

* * *

I told myself that this sort of thing wasn't unusual – I knew it wasn't. And that man - he hadn't touched me anywhere inappropriate. He was probably just drunk.

With that out of my mind, I went upstairs to watch the coat room, as I had been told to do by Marion. The doors to the dining room had been closed, and would remain so for the rest of the evening. My only job now was to hand out coats and bags to guests that were leaving when the party was over. So basically, there wasn't much else to do now but wait.

The other secretaries were going to be busy all night downstairs so it was just me now on the groundfloor of the building – and since it was pretty late at night, not many people were moving about outside either.

For the first half hour or so I tried to keep myself busy, arranging and lining up coats that had fallen to the floor. The coat room was really just temporary, filled with those silver portable coatracks that the Volturi used when transporting their drycleaning, otherwise it was used for storage. But just like all the other rooms in the old building, it had a certain medieval charm to it. Even if I didnät know that much about history, I could still appriciate the intricate stone carvings and the hidden passages (yes, Helen had told me about those) which were located throughout the building, and the ones surrounding the piazza. She said it had something to do with old monks from the 16th century, who in secret built rooms in which they kept prisoners of war hidden away from the law.

But the coatroom was only entertaining for so long. I had to stay for at least another three hours at my post, so to have something to do I started to explore the rest of the rooms on the ground floor. They were usually kept locked up during the day, but for this evening most of them had been unlocked in order to store the guests belongings. I knew that tourists went on guided tours here, as I had observed large groups of people coming and going through these cavernous rooms. But I had never really felt any inclination or curiosity about the past of this place before.

But it was different at night. Maybe it was because nobody else was around, and I could look around undisturbed. Not that it should matter – but somehow, it did.

I had left the coatroom and continued down the main hallway, and went into the unlit room to my left. The thick wooden door was standing ajar, not fully opened. Usually, light attracts you more than the dark – but something that intrigued me about this door in particular was its size – it was not tall and magnificent like the others – instead the doorway was at least two heads shorter in height.

When I pushed, it seemed to drag across the floor, as if the wood had swollen over the years and become a snug fit to its frame. Something that usually happened when the air was moist after a storm or a rainfall – back in Forks, this was happenstance.

When, after some effort, I finally pushed the door open, I realized that I probably shouldn't have gone in there in the first place.

* * *

The room was not clean and organized like the others. Everything inside was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the ceiling was peeling away – I realized that it was old paint, frayed and unkempt. I realized fairly quickly that this was not a room that the tourists were allowed to see – myself included. I was just an intern and this was crossing the line.

But I was too curious to turn back now, so without looking back I carefully stepped into the narrow doorway, closing the door behind me. There was some light illuminating the room from above – much like the throne room a few floors below, it had a circular opening in the domed ceiling, the glass broken in several places. There was also a tiny window that overlooked the steep cliff by the side of the building, and the plane trees that grew below in the glade.

The rest of the room was filled up with what looked like random assortments of junk. Everything was so covered with grime that it was hard to make out what everything was, and the light was sparse – it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. When they had, I recognized that there were several old bookshelves stacked in one corner of the room, most of them empty – some of them haphazerdly filled with molding, rotting books. When I tried to open one and read it, the words had been eaten away by moths, and the paper reeked with mold. I blinked and sneezed against the dust motes floating in the air, completely baffled by what I was seeing.

Why had this room been left to just decay like this? It made no sense at all. The Volturi valued everything that was beautiful and elegant, and above all clean – so why this mess? Maybe they had forgotten about this room completely, and I was the first person to be here for several years. There many suitcases in here as well – all of them seemingly identical.

As a matter of fact, there were several piles in here of things that looked identical. There was one pile of stuffed (rotting) animals, a pile of bird cages in various shapes and sizes, and many, many cellular phones- some of which looked more than 20 years old. The room reminded me of something I had seen before, but I couldn't just put a finger on what that was. In the center of the room stood a single, wooden desk. It was the only neat part of the room – the surface perfectly clean from any dust or filth. On this desk was an assortment of what looked like old metal tins – but when I picked one up and turned it around, I saw that it was not a tin, but a music box. The one I was holding, when I rubbed some of the dirt of, looked like it had been around for at least a hundred years or so. I had never seen anything like it before. It was small, made of pure gold and on each of its sides were engravings – pictures that had been moulded into the surface.

But I felt strange, holding it. Like it was familiar to me somehow.

My hand felt around at the bottom, finding a key that I twisted around, winding it up. When the music started, I was startled to see the picture on the surface moving – behind a thin layer of glass, golden ships moved across rolling waves. In the foreground there were no forest, animals or people, but ruins – ancient temples that had crumbled.

And the music – it sounded bittersweet. Like something wonderful that had come and gone all too soon. This too, brought out an ache in me that was foreign, but I knew what it was when I felt it. Soon I was sitting down on there on the dirty floor, the music box still in my hands. I was so mezmerised by it and the tune it was playing, that I scaresely noticed anything else around me.

But even I noticed that I was no longer alone in the room.

When I heard him speak, it was already too late.

* * *

 _"Like a present, she waits for me..._ " he murmured, his italian old-fashioned and his voice slightly scratchy. My stomach tightened and I got up from the floor, turning around. It was that man again from downstairs, the one who had touched my cheek. We were alone now. I stared at the closed door behind him, panic rising in me. I swallowed, my lips dry. Dust was clinging to my lashes, making my eyes water.

It was easy to imagine that his eyes were red in the dark, so easy to be afraid.

"Sir, neither of us are supposed to be in here." I said, but he just came closer, eyes too focused on me. He shook his head calmly, hands in the pocket of his pants. He brought them out - they looked pale, even without the light.

"You're wrong about that – you are exactly where you belong. Besides, it will be easier for them if I take care of you here. "

My heart started to beat fast, my back slamming against the nearest wall where I stayed, unable to move. I was clinging onto the music box, which had gone silent. I began to shake my head, but I was already going through the motions, my eyes not really seeing him, but someone else.

"No." I muttered, but I was not heard. He was now right up against me, hand caressing my neck – as his other hand wretched the music box from my hands, throwing it to the floor. My hand were not my hands, and had gone limp against my sides. I heard him shift and press up against me, his breath cold on my skin.

"I've been wondering all night, what you might taste like..." he murmured, his voice now rough and too close, too loud to ignore – but my mind was already gone, disappearing as I only could watch as his mouth descended on my neck, his hands moving over my body, pinching and grinding against me.

I was a piece of glass, breaking all over again. Glass is just material, without feelings or memory. That was my only comfort.

But before something else could happen, the thick wooden door suddenly slammed open, almost falling off its hinges. Light flooded the decaying room and the man who had been on me turned around sharply and hissed at whatever he saw.

* * *

The sudden light blinded me, and I couldn't tell at first who was standing in the doorway. But whoever it was sounded angry. The voice that came from the person sounded like gravel, almost unrecognizable. Whoever the voice belonged to had the man who was still in the room with me start to shake, his hands no longer on me, instead clasped in front of him, as if begging for forgiveness.

" ** _Nathaniel._** I believe that you are expected downstairs. Go there, now." Ther person growled, voice uneven and filled with hardly contained anger. Nathaniel quickly disappeared, leaving me standing in the room, my body still against the wall. I could now see that it was Aro standing there, his chest heaving and his hands gripping the doorway on each side in a deathgrip. Detached, I noticed that he looked taller when he was angry.

My silk dress had torn a little at the shoulder, and when I attempted to fix it, I realized that I couldn't because my hands were shaking too much. All the while Aro was silent as he stared at me with wide eyes, and I knew what he saw.

I turned my head away, hair obscuring my face. It was so silent now that you could almost hear some of the music from downstairs. My vision was getting blurry, because my body had decided to cry.

"I'm sorry." I murmured.

He let out a long sigh, his hands relaxing against the doorframe – his frame shutting out the rest of the world. His voice sounded old and gentle when spoke, saying something that might as well have been in an alien language.

"You have done nothing wrong. "


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: Sorry for the shorter chapter, next one will be longer! Really appreciate all the kind things said in reviews (okay the critical ones are good too but ya know) I really needed that little extra boost this week._

* * *

it took me some time to be able to move. It always did when this happened, before I was able to put everything together again.

I was only half-aware that Aro was still standing in the doorway, blocking anyone from looking inside, from seeing me like this. But he didn't come near me and he didn't touch me. As long as nobody touched me, I could face anything after.

After a few minutes, I had managed to find something to hold onto in my mind. Something that would stop me from shaking. My eyes shot up towards the door, again afraid – maybe that he wouldn't let me leave this room and lock me inside. There was no reason for this worry, but I had learned my lesson many times that fear was rational, always.

But as I looked, he slowly stepped aside, his eyes on the stone floor. He must have known how uncanny they were – his eyes. That they frightened me, especially now. I walked past him and out into the hallway.

"Helen is coming, she'll take you home." he said. He had probably called her up, but I hadn't heard it. My shoulders hunched and tears drying on my face – and my boss having been witness to it all. This was suppose to be a fresh start. I was supposed to have been free from it, at last.

Just wishful thinking, it turns out.

I nodded quickly, "That's good."

We stood there in silence for a moment –and I could tell that he seemed torn, as he looked up and down the hallway, a thoughtful frown on his face. He finally fixed his eyes on me, and I shivered. He removed his suit jacket and handed it over to me to take, but I did not put it on, instead I held it close to my chest, letting my hands clench the soft material.

"In the meantime I will wait with you, until she gets here. Is that acceptable to you?"

It wasn't. But it was better than being alone.

"Yes."

* * *

It didn't take long for Helen to come running up the stairs – and if I wasn't so strange inside at the time, I would have been surprised to see her look so worried, her tan skin pale and her eyes wide. Her hair was a little less neater than usual, and when she saw me she looked shocked – I tried to avoid her gaze, looking anywhere else. I knew I looked a mess, the dress was torn and I was covered in dust. She grabbed my arms and shook me lightly. But my arms were made of cotton, so I felt nothing.

"Rebecca? What happened? Why are you so quiet?" she asked me, and I didn't know what to say. Aro, who had stood at an arms length away from me, was now close enough so that his voice reverberated through me. But it was comforting, as if he knew that I had to borrow his voice to speak.

"Someone from our party found her. He will be dealt with by the proper authorities as soon as possible."

Helen looked up at Aro in silence, nodding thoughtfully once he was finished. Then Aro turned to me once more, his eyes directly gazing into mine. The pupils in his eyes were small and dark, but not black – they were the color of dried blood. This close, I saw that there was a wild emotion in those eyes, as if violence was not far from his thoughts. The rest of his face was a mask, carefully hiding what was inside.

I do not know what he saw in mine, but when he spoke, his voice was the same as it always had been towards me – careful and kind.

"And tomorrow, you can decide about your future here with us." he said, which made me truly take notice of what he was actually saying. I blinked several times and stared at him.

"What? I dont understand..." Had I done something wrong? Were they sending me away? Aro sighed with regret.

"I am are deeply sorry about what happened here tonight, and it is understandable if you decide not to stay in Volterra any longer. We will arrange and pay for your travel arrangements of course."

"No." I said, loud and clear as I shook my head. There was a slight pause.

"No?" He asked, and it was hard to tell if he was surprised or not. I swallowed, clearing my throat. His eyes was fixed on his coat, which I for some reason refused to let go of.

"I want to be here. I want to continue working for you, as was agreed upon." I told him, because it was the truth. Something about being here made me different, and it was for once not a bad thing. Aro turned to Helen, all business now.

"Very well. Helen, make sure that she gets home safely. I need to rejoin the party and make sure that the guilty party is dealt with. " he said, and she inclined her head.

"As you wish, Master."

Before Helen and I left, I turned to look over my shoulder. Instead of disappearing downstairs right away, like I thought he would, Aro was still standing in the hallway where we just were. Watching us leave, his hands clasped in front of him.

* * *

Helen stayed with me at the apartment for a few hours, watching a dubbed action movie on tv until it was very late, after which she only left after I insisted that I was okay. But before she did, she had asked me several times about what had happened – wanted to know things.

"Wouldn't you feel better if you talked about it?" she asked me, her high heeled pumps discarded and feet tucked in as we both sat on the large couch in the living room. I was holding a cup of hot tea, and had to put it down on the coffee table, because my hands were shaking.

They usually did that too, afterwards.

I knew what it was she needed, what I needed. But I could not give that to her, the demon that lives in my dreams. It would kill me, I know that for a fact. It is the only facet of my life that I cannot ever look at too closely, or I'll burn.

So I told her what I've heard others say before me, because it is so much easier. I shrugged and nodded a lot, like I didn't really care.

"It's okay Helen, really. He never even got that far before Aro showed up." I said, and she stopped staring at me questionably, eyes going over to the tv screen once more. Then she put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I still can't believe that it happened. But I'm glad that you're safe and sound. "

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

To my surprise, sleep came easily that night. Perhaps because everything that had happened had made me so exhausted.

But I did have strange dreams. I saw that little room, full of seemingly abandoned things and the music box – but the room was flooded with water, and I couldn't reach the door. I knew I was trapped, and I couldn't breathe. Something black was attacking me from within my chest, and it hurt.

I was only half-awake when the dream changed, and I think I heard the sound of soft footsteps, the bed covers shifting like water. A deep sigh and a cold hand on my forehead, and then smoothing down my hair. It was like what my mother used to do, a long time ago.

"I'm not sick, I promise." I answered the dream, which was still there, because it made a sound of amusement. But the dream did not seem to understand what I was saying.

"Do you want me to stay?" it asked, and I think I nodded, everything in the dream pitch black, but I knew that I wasn't alone. The dream made a bit of noise, someone humming contently before I fell into a deeper, undisturbed sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Why yes, this is a filler chapter! But look on the bright side, cats are always a sign that the protagonist is going to survive until the end._

* * *

When I woke up the next day, the sun was shining into my eyes, and the room was hot, since I hadn't bothered to roll down the curtain on my bedroom window last night. I must have slept longer than usual – which was confirmed when I looked at the clock on my nightstand. I knew that it was a teenage thing to do, but I usually did not sleep til noon on the weekends.

But on the upside, I felt rested and my mind more at peace. Or at least as much as it was ever going to be. My bedsheets were all tangled up, probably because I had been tossing and turning. Before going to eat breakfast I made the bed and had a cooling shower. After that I decided that it was time to go for a run around the neighborhood. I quickly changed into a t-shirt and workout shorts before putting my bare feet into my favorite nike shoes, then I grabbed my keys and a bottle of water before heading out.

It was one of those really bright summer days, with not a single cloud in the sky. Not many people were around at this time outside, since the italian version of siesta, here called riposo, was in effect. Plus it was saturday, which meant that the riposo was usually longer than usual. All the shops were closed for up to two hours. Not many more than a few elderly people playing boules in the piazza nearest my apartment were out and about – their easy chatter amongst each other a nice sound as I ran past them, waving as I did.

A white cat was sleeping on the warm steps to another apartment complex under the shade of a nearby plane tree, and when it heard my footsteps it merely stretched its limbs lazily, but did not open its eyes.

I had thankfully rubbed myself in with extra strong sunscreen, since it was technically not the best idea to spend too much time out in the midday sun. But I couldn't help it, I needed to move.

* * *

I took another route from the one I usually chose, letting my legs take me where they wanted. I head ed north on the outskirts of town, where the countryside was more wild and the trees stood thick as thieves.

I rounded a corner on the road, the road getting more narrow and uneven as it led down to a ravine. It was yet another part of the nature around here that I hadn't seen before – and by the looks of it, it seeemed as if the bottom of the ravine was used as a dumping ground for rubble and other building material from construction sites. Since it was so remote, I guess it made sense. There were no private homes in this area, so there was nobody around to see the littering.

I looked down at the dusty ground at my feet, picking up a large rock. I threw it around in my hands, staring down at the ravine before i finally let it slip from my fingers. It echoed as it started its quick descent, landing on top of the large pile of assorted metal bars, wood and rusty pipes. I stood there for awhile, listening to the rough wind – the heat making any sound more muffled, masked somehow.

It was an oddly peaceful place, even though the grass here was dry and looked like the end of a broomstick, and some of the trees were so overgrown, the branches tilted down to the ground. But maybe that was because I was getting philosophical again. A world where there was only me in it would mean that I was normal – I would have no one else to compare myself to.

That was when I heard a strange cry from the bottom of the ravine.

* * *

At first, because it sounded so similar, I thought it was a baby. It sounded like a mewling sob, long and moaning. I got down on my knees and attempted to see where the sound was coming from – I didn't want to climb down there in case it was just my imagination.

But then I saw something black, a paw amonst the large concrete blocks. It was moving back and forth in a rapid motion, as if trying to grab something. My instincts took over as I began to look for a safe way down, all the while trying to keep that paw within view as I carefully climbed my way down. Now when I got closer, I could easily see that the paw belonged to a cat – its black fur dusty and unkempt, it also seemed to be bleeding from its side.

Wobbling over the heap of rubble, I saw that the cat had been caught undenearth a steel pipe. It had probably been down here looking for rats, since there were a lot of them in this area. When it heard me approach, it turned its head and blinked at me with wide, yellow eyes. It had a curiously long face for a cat, but then that could also be because of malnourishment. It howled at me, a sound that unmistakably meant "HURRY UP". I rolled my eyes, both of my knees scratched up from my perilous descent as I got closer.

"Calm down kitty, I'm coming."

When I hunched down and began to remove the pipe, it began to hiss and claw at me. It looked as if it had been trapped like this for awhile.

"Its okay, I'm not going to hurt you." I said gently, my hands working slowly so not to startle it.

It still hissed, but stopped trying to cut me as I slowly lifted the heavy pipe and carefully helped the cat to move aside. It only managed to walk a few steps before it collapsed on its side, breathing heavily, its tongue lolling out. Must be both thirsty and hungry as hell, and I had no idea for how long it had been trapped here. I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest, frowning as I looked down at it, considering.

I wondered it if was even worth trying to do anything else. Maybe it was close to dying anyway - it certainly looked close enough to it.

But then, as if it had heard my internal moral debate, the cat reared its head up suddenly and stared up at me, eyes wide and trusting. We stared at each other for what felt like an age and a day before it meowed. That about sealed the deal for the both of us.

* * *

"Oh hi Rebecca, how are you feeling?" Helens familiar voice greeted me over the phone. I filled a cup full of water in the kitchen as I kept the phone to my ear with my other hand, sitting it down on the floor next to me. It had been an interesting walk home, juggling a half-feral cat in my arms that was also seriously injured in several places. I had more than one scratch on me thanks to that, and when I had gotten home to the apartment the cat had decided to pee on the kitchen floor. It was now gobbling up water by the gallon, and despite its injuries had perked up considerably. It was a good sign.

" I'm better now. But I was wondering if there are any veterinarians in Volterra?" I asked Helen as I sat down next to the cat on the floor, keeping a respectful distance. I heard Helen pause for a beat, and I could only imagine what she was thinking.

"Uh, I think there are one or two close to Florence – but why on earth do _you_ want to know that?" she asked, and I sighed, carefully stroking the cat down its back as it drank. It was missing a piece of its tail, but it looked like a much older, now healed injury. It was almost funny how content it looked, considering the circumstances. It paused in its furious drinking to look up at me with consideration, eyes blinking slowly. I ruffled the fur on its head with my fingers, and it closed its eyes and purred.

"Oh, I just made a little friend on my afternoon jog today."


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note: Sorry for taking so long (well, longer than usual) its been a doozy of a week. If any of you are interested in a playlist for this fic, there is one if you have Spotify. Just search for a playlist called "my dear secretary"._

* * *

Monday morning, I went to work like usual.

I had heard nothing from anyone at the office over the weekend about the incident at the dinner party, which was a relief. I knew that I would have to talk to them about it sooner or later – they probably wanted to know if I wanted to press charges. But if I did that, they would have to notify my dad back in Forks about what happened, and I knew he would want me to come home.

I was getting ready by the door, putting on some light lipstick while looking in the large hall mirror when I felt the brush of fur against my legs. I smiled and looked down at my new feline companion, who was now completely bandaged up and vaccinated. I still had to feed him antibiotics in his food in the morning, but the vet had told me that as soon as his bandages could come off, I could stop with the medication.

I had not given him a name yet. After brushing against me four or five times, he flopped contently to the floor and purred loudly. I looked down at him, amused.

"Kitty, you're lucky that your only trouble is missing half a tail."

* * *

Most of the morning at work passed in relative peace and quiet, and nobody looked at me funny, which was something I had feared after Helen had found out about what happened. But sure enough, when the lunch hour came, a woman approached me - one that I hadn't seen at the office before, but going by the way she dressed, it was unmistakable that she worked for the Volturi as well.

"Miss Somersen?"

"Yes, that's me."

"The Masters have requested an audience with you."

"Okay, when?"

"Immidiatly Miss – but if you would rather do it after you've eaten..."

"No, I can go there now."

* * *

To say that I was nervous as the woman led me to the throne room was an understatement. I hadn't seen Aro since that night, and I had no idea what he had told his colleagues. Maybe they would blame me, and request me to go home. But most of all, I just wanted to move on and pretend that it hadn't happened. When we reached the doors, I had to wait a couple of minutes outside before they could receive me – then a buzzer sounded from the head secretary's table, and she shot me a wide, practised smile.

"You can go in now."

"Yeah, thanks." I muttered, my polite vocabulary slipping due to my dark thoughts as I walked through the double doors. I knew that there was a frown on my face, but I didn't bother schooling my expression, as there was no doubt in my mind that what we would be discussing during this meeting was going to be unpleasant. Nevertheless, I bowed my head at them respectfully in greeting.

" _Uomini_ , thank you for having me."

They were not, for once sitting at their thrones – but by a long table in the center of the room that wasn't usually there – or maybe I just hadn't noticed it before. Piles and piles of books laid on the surface, some open, some not. Only Caius and Aro looked up when I entered, while Marcus appeared to be sleeping, reclined in a chair at the head of the table with an open book on his chest.

Slowly, their eyes fixed on me. Aro was the only one of them who smiled, but otherwise said nothing.

"You summoned me, what was it you wanted to discuss?" I asked them, and it was Caius who spoke up, his steely voice filling the room. Different from his brothers, his eyes were cold and hard, unfeeling but intense all the same. His long blonde hair was almost the same pale shade as his skin, hands gripping the arms of his chair like a vice.

"We have become aware of a breach in personal space, made by one of our guest last week. Is this true?" he asked, someone I had noticed by now that was not fond of small talk. I sighed before answering him.

"Yes, it is."

Caius shared a glance with Aro, before he continued.

"We want to advise you, that if you wish to take action regarding the matter, you should do so sooner rather than later. He can be charged by the law for his improper conduct, and punished accordingly. Of course, as we are the responsible party on this occation, we want to offer you a compensational package…" I quickly shook my head at him.

"Ah, signore, forgive me for interrupting but….I don't want any of that." he raised one single eyebrow at that, surprised.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked, sounding almost a little pompus. I knew that it sounded a little strange, and for a moment I struggled for how I would explain it to them. I looked down at the floor as my hands gestured as I spoke. I could sense their eyes on me, even now, making me slightly flustered.

"There would be a lot of paperwork involved, and a lot more of a mess than the actual incident was to begin with. As long as I do not have to be around him again, I have nothing further to say about the matter."

They were quiet for a long time, the silence awkward and stifling. Then Marcus drew in a long, sharp breath of air, as if just waking up from a long nap. He looked up towards me, his hands moving slowly in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra. But I suspected it was something instilled in him since youth, his movements old-fashioned and theatrical. All Helen had told me before about him was that he was very, very old.

"Well, as long as you are sure." he said, nodding at me slowly.

"Yes I am sure, but thank you for concerning yourselves all the same."

"Then you may return to your work, thank you Miss Somersen."

I nodded towards them respectfully once more before turning to leave the room. But before I did, I could see that Aro was fixedly staring into some point in the distance, a expression of barely controlled anger on his face. His hands resting on the table were clenched, and half his face set in shadow.

Somehow, I knew that I had disappointed him.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note: FYI you should ALWAYS ALWAYS report it if you are mistreated/sexually assaulted at work or anywhere else. I am also renaming the story because the current one sounds like the title of a harlequin novel._

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

The next couple of days passed by without any further incidents. Something I was incredibly grateful for – it was once again all about the work I was doing, and the practical things I was learning as a secretary. While the cultural clash was sometimes overwhelming, like when the other secretaries started talking animatedly about celebrating the town's patron saint and the upcoming festivities in june, it was also very fascinating.

I was becoming very good at corresponding with some of the company affiliates and clients, and my use of the language was getting more and more fitted to my personality. That is, I no longer sounded like an automatic robot when I talked, my use of the language becoming more natural. I had a run-in with the landlord when he came to check on the pipes in the bathroom – having no time to explain to him that I kept a pet now before the pet in question started playing with his shoe-strings.

But other than muttering a bit about "american heroics" he left it at that.

Something else was however not quite like before.

Aro had not spoken to me at all since the incident. Even when we passed each other in the hallway with his brothers, or by himself – he wouldn't even look my way, purposfully ignoring me it seemed like. And if I saw him in the piazza around lunchtime, standing in the shade like usual, he would get up and leave if he saw me sitting down to eat there. I could not understand it.

Had I...disgraced them? Was that why he was suddenly so cold?

But that reasoning did not make sense, since they had themselves taken the blame for what happened. Not that he had really spoken to me all that much before, he was my boss after all and rather busy both day and night. It was just one of those things that you felt, like the warmth from the sun or the wind on your face. Not that it should matter to me, as long as I could keep my internship. And I could always count on Helen if I needed someone to talk to – so why did I feel so disappointed?

You're not supposed to be that close with your boss anyway. I mean, it happens but it is unusual.

* * *

One late afternoon, due to a combination of a peak in high temperatures and a siesta that never seemed to end, I was sent home from work earlier than usual. I decided to spend this extra time by calling Lana. I had promised to stay in touch, but I had only called her once or twice so far – and I knew she would only badger me and get moody if I didn't call her again soon.

As soon as I got home to the apartment, after putting on the AC as cold as it could get and making sure that all my windows and balcony doors were wide open, I plopped down on the couch and reached for my phone. I would also need to call my dad at some point. But this was enough for now.

Lana picked up after only the second ring, her voice loud and borderline obnoxious.

"Becca, finally – what the hell have you been up to over there?" she nearly screeched, and I rolled my eyes, walking out to sit on the balcony in order to cool myself off slightly. I had toed my shoes off and removed my jacket, rolling up the sleeves of my pale blue shirt. The sun was on the other side of the building now, leavig this side in the shade – not that it was that much cooler, but still.

I sat down on a pillow, my bare feet tucked to the side.

"You know already, I've told you. "

"Aha, yeah – but what about when you're not working? Seen the sighs yet?" she asked, and I nodded.

"Sort of, I've been to Florence but only once. I'm planning to go back there this weekend. But enough about me, how have you been doing?"

Lana made a noise which I knew meant that she was beyond bored.

"Ugh, its been hell – dad's put me on storage duty in the basement of his law firm. It's cold, damp and everything smells like mold. My only compensation is a free lunch and coupons for pizzahut."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah, it's been simply wonderful. I hope they pay you better over there though." Lana said, and I shrugged, since I wasn't actually given a salery as was the terms of an internship. But then, I thought about the apartment, the clothes...it was kind of strange when you thought about it, and it would sound stranger to someone who was given coupons.

"Oh, They give me things." I said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"What kind of things?"Lana asked, sounding curious.

 _Oh nothing, just a full wardrobe, a satin dress and a necklace made out of real gold plus paying rent for an apartment worthy of royalty._

"The same as you I guess." I said. It was easier to lie than to try to explain to her how italian businesses worked. But she must have picked up on something.

"But you're having a good time right?"she asked, sounding like she was joking, but I knew her better than that. And it was a good question, especially considering what happened last week. But what I told her was the truth.

"Yeah, it's….good here, actually."

"Glad to hear it chica, but listen, I gotta run. But call me more often okay, or better yet, ANSWER for once when I call!"

I smirked at her slightly hysterical tone, knowing how she liked to pretend not to care but was actually the biggest softie on the inside.

"Okay, I promise. Talk to you soon."

* * *

With nothing else to really occupy my time for the moment, I was, for the first time since my arrival in Volterra, at a loss for what to do for the rest of my afternoon. I had already done most of my weekly laundry, and like I said to Lana, my trip to Florence would have to wait until the weekend.

It was too hot to go outside at the moment, which meant that i was basically stuck inside until the sun desecended from its peak. But I had never really gotten used to the idea of a siesta either – it felt strange to take a nap just like that in the middle of the day.

It was then that my eyes fell upon the book that Aro had given to me to read. _The Time Machine_ was standing just where I left it, on the table next to the front door. It made me wonder what he saw in it that he thought that I would like – we didn't exactly know each other well, so why did he think that I would enjoy it?

Like I said before, I had tried to read it but gotten lost in the scientific terms and formal language. But with nothing else to do (except watch badly dubbed italian movies on tv) it seemed like a good idea to give it another try.

I went into the kitchen and filled up a glass with half orange juice/half water and added ice cubes from the fridge before I grabbed the book and went to sit on the floor of the balcony, my legs crossed and the book propped open on my lap.

 _And with that the Time Traveller began his story as I have set it forth. He sat back in his chair at first, and spoke like a weary man. At first we glanced now and again at each other. After a time we ceased to do that, and looked only at the Time Traveller's face…_

* * *

I became so absorbed in the book that I was startled when I heard the church bells, ringing 6 times to announce that it was now evening. Huh, I had not expected the book to actually be that good.

Once I decided to skip ahead on the first chapter a bit, which was mostly just one long lecture about the specifics of time travel, the real story began. The time traveller (for he had no name in the book) recounted his journey into a distopian future, where he was not met by technological marvels or great geniuses like himself. Instead the world had crumbled, and the people divided and alienated from one another.

I had never read anything like it – not surprising, since I hadn't read many books.

I put it down when I heard the bells ring, and to my surprise I saw that I had finished more than half of it already. I hadn't even noticed the time passing. The land which the time traceller found himself in was extremely fascinating to me – how things had gotten so backwards.

Even though technology still existed, it was hardly used and anything organic had eaten it up. The time traveller found that humanity had evolved into two subspecies – the eloi and the morlocks. The eloi did not know how to speak, and went through life like it was a dream full of mist, while the morlocks were monstrous, frightening creatures that lived underground in caves. After many days, the time traveller discovered the awful truth – that one was food for the other.

* * *

After dinner I went out for my usual run, taking a familiar path as I took in the feeling of cooler air against my exposed skin. Remnants of the days heat still lingered, but it was a pleasant heat, one that made it easy to stay out all night without worrying about freezing. There had been many cold nights in Forks, and my nose and cheeks had always been red and my lips chapped. I heard cicadas singing in the grass as I ran, but it was a subdued kind of singing - as if the heat had been too much even for them.

Unlike Forks, when nighttime came here, the sky was well and truly black. Not a hint of blue or grey, and it wasn't orange-tinted due to pollution. Instead, there were several sharp dots of stars.

I ran past the only soccer field for miles around, which was always inhabited, be it day or night. A couple of teenagers were there now, laughing and practising by one of the goal lines. Only a nearby streetlamp lit up the field, bathing it in fluorescent yellow. I continued running, heading north even though there were almost no streetlights in this direction.

It took me a second to recognize the road, and where I was heading.

The trees are no longer green in the dark, but just as inky black as the sky. The fragrant smell of orange blossoms was the only indicator of what they were. I headed down a familiar, sloping hill. I could barely make out my own feet in the dark now, but still I kept on running. I was almost there.

* * *

When I arrived at the cliff, I stopped. Catching my breath, I sat down on the spot, my legs dangling off the side. Just like last time, there was nobody else here but me. I could hear the faint sound of cicadas in the distance, and the wind through the trees, but other than that it was completely silent. The quarry below was still the same, and I fought the urge to throw rocks into it, just to hear an echo. I sighed and stood up, my eyes not really fixated on anything around me. Why had I come here? There was nothing but dirt, dust and pieces of old metal. The nature was savage, and even though it was beautiful it also made me sad.

There was still blood on the rocks below from the cat I had rescued. I looked up.

On the other side of the quarry there were no roads, no streetlights and no sign of civilisation. Just a thick, vast forest. I continued to stare at it as I moved backwards, as if I was gearing up to jump across to the other side. Something strange was going on in my brain that I couldn't explain even if I wanted to.

That's when I felt it. Knew that I was no longer alone here.

"Rebecca."

* * *

I waited for a second before I turned around. Aro was standing a few paces behind me, the trees partly shrouding his appearance. But the difference was that the trees swayed in the wind, and he didn't move at all. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a statue that had been left here centuries ago. Then he walked up to me, cautiously, like he was afraid I'd run. I had no idea what he was doing all the way out here. He held out a hand towards me, the movement slow and almost theatrical.

His skin looked almost grey in the dark, and it almost looked like he was sick.

"I was on my way back, and I saw you standing here." he said, and I fought the urge to ask "Back from where?". I brushed dirt off my shorts, painfully aware that this was the first time he had seen me in unprofessional clothing. I crossed my arms over my chest as I approached him.

"I was just out on a run." I said, and he tilted his head, scrutinizing me.

"So late at night?" he asked, sounding almost mocking in tone.

"It helps clear my head, sometimes."

Aro nodded slowly, and he was standing close enough now that I could see him more clearly. His face was open to me now, and the cool disdain was gone. Instead there was something else, something much warmer.

"I understand."

And the strange thing was, I think he did. We began to walk back towards town, in silence at first, which was broken when he stopped abruptly on the deserted road to stare at me. His physical language was so odd, that I could never predict what he would say or do.

"I feel that I must apologize for my behavior this past week." he blurted out, and I frowned at him in confusion.

"Your behavior?" I asked as he looked away, fretting with his hands.

"I know that I haven't been...honest towards you about Nathaniel."

Just the sound of his name gave me shivers, and not the good kind. I continued walking, and so did he. It was quiet again for awhile.

"You don't have to explain anything." I said, but he just shook his head at me.

"But I do. You see, it grieves me deeply when a woman is mistreated - even more so when that woman in question think that it is their fault." Now it was my turn to stop, staring at him as a wide range of emotions hit me - anger being one of them. He stopped and looked back at me, not sorry at all.

"I know that it is what you think." he said, and after a long moment I continued walking beside him, but I no longer tried to keep the same pace. Instead my stride was getting more and more similar to the way I ran, so that it would be impossible for him to keep up. But somehow, he did anyway, without looking slighted at all.

"You wished that I had reported him." I said, looking straight ahead, knowing that I would not like his answer.

"I was sure you would, in fact."

I looked at him, knowing that I was making no attempt to remain professional about this. It was too personal anyway.

"And now you are what, disappointed?" I asked, daring him to look into my eyes. But he looked straight ahead, like he knew what I was thinking.

"I was at first, yes." he said easily, and by now I realized that it was impossible to shake him off. I stopped abruptly, my eyes boring into his. They were not my eyes, but that of the creature I left behind in Forks, who fought and clawed at people without sense or reason. I was closer to that creature now more than ever.

"Really. What changed your mind?" I asked, my voice hollow. Still, he did not get it. His mouth opened as if to answer, but he stopped when he saw my expression, his head tilting to the side like a curious dog.

"You sound angry." he said, his voice strangely filled with wonder. I rolled my eyes and continued on ahead without him down the road.

"Well, maybe that's because I am." I muttered, and I heard him sigh - though if it was with regret or not I don't know. I continued walking, not really caring if he followed me back or not. It was better that I was alone anyway, lest he see anything more.

But it had grown so quiet.

I turned around to look, and saw nothing but the dark, empty road behind me.


	16. Florence Revisited Part I

_Author's note: You guys, thank you for liking this story so much! I wish I could update more often, but it is what it is. Oh, should probably tell you that the story will get a M rating soon, but I think we were all expecting that. As always, read and review!_

* * *

It was on thursday just after work that Helen came over to my desk, looking less stressed than usual. In fact, she looked excited, her face bright and alert.

"So, me and a few others are going to a party on saturday...and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?" she asked me, looking back to the other women in the room, whom, while not looking back, smiled as they worked. Huh, that was unusual. I leaned forward on my desk, my suit jacket hanging abandoned on the back on my chair so that I could roll up my shirtsleeves.

"Where?" I asked, shutting off my computer and picking up my handbag from the floor. Helen continued, oblivious to how I was feeling about it. Instead she inspected her nails with a critical look.

"La Stracciora is throwing a summer ball, they do every year in the last days of june. It's in Florence of course." she said, and I didn't answer right away – I was going to florence on saturday too.

"Oh, I see."

Helens cheery attitude faltered a little when she noticed how long it was taking me to answer her, her expression uncertain.

"So do you want to come?" she asked, and I shot her a small smile.

"I'll think about it..."

"Right. Well, call me when you know."

I had attended a lot of parties back in Forks – of course I had, I was a teenager. But my limited experience of them here in volterra had so far been...well, less than successful. And besides, I was probably going to be tired from spending the whole day in the city, like I had planned. But I did enjoy dancing, and since the other secretaries had started treating me better, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to spend more time with them.

And well, my communication with the "masters" was currently not so great – especially regarding one of them in particular. I should at least be able to get along with _some_ of my peers.

* * *

Saturday morning, I woke up very early – at 8 am to be exact. The sun was still climbing steadily in the sky, and the air was still cool, as it always was around dawn. Something I'd noticed, no matter where on earth, no matter how warm the climate might be, there was just something about the air at dawn that was extra cold. Like the elements had forgotten how to conjure heat. I stretched in bed, my feet brushing against fur. I sat up and was met by the sight of the cat, curled up like a ball at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. One thing was for sure – he was no early bird. I reached down at stroked his back gently, and he stretched and leaned into my hand, purring loudly. His wounds were healing nicely, and the bandages were finally off.

I had no idea what I was going to do about him, once the summer was over. It would be too cruel to throw him out, now that he had gotten used to a human taking care of him. Sighing, I tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, promising myself to come up with a plan way before I had to leave Volterra for good.

I had about an hour before the bus left for Florence, which was enough for me to get dressed and eat a light breakfast. I had forgotten to do laundry the night before, so I just threw on an old band t-shirt and blue sweatpants. To make it look less lazy, I put my hair up in a bun and a few old bracelets I had brought with me from home. Though really, it didn't matter much – nobody was going to keep me company during the day. As for the party later, I carefully folded down a simple cocktail dress and put it in my satchel.

Helen had said that I didn't have to worry about catching a late bus home, saying that she would be the designated driver for the night.

Around an hour later, the cat ( I would really have to pick out a name soon) had woken up, eaten and went over to the front door, meowing at me loudly to let him out. I had initially been worried about letting him out, since I was usually gone all day without being able to let him in again. But then, one day after work, I had discovered that, aside from being half-feral he was also a pretty good climber. There was a tree right outside by the balcony, which he would climb and then drop down on the balcony landing, making it look easy as pie.

As soon as I cranked open the door, he swooped down the stairs with the speed of a cannonball. An elderly lady that lived on the floor above me was on the stairs below, and she gasped at the sight of the black cat, clutching her newspaper in one gnarled hand, her eyes wide. I snorted at the sight, shaking my head.

"Just my luck to take care of a black cat." I muttered, even though I wasn't superstitious in the least.

* * *

Florence looked different this time when I arrived. Perhaps it was because I was alone, but I took notice of other things than I had last time. For example, all the children I saw did not either cry or nag at their parents – while the tourists and their children in turn didn't seem to get along about anything. Another was how clean the water in the fountains was, clear enough that the glitter of coins at the bottom catches the sunlight, twinkling up at anyone who passed by.

I had thought the city was flat but it wasn't – just like Volterra, the city foundation was in part built on rolling hills, but unlike volterra, the hills were not at the center of attention. In the south side of the city, the pavement just followed whatever shape the earth had – and it came as a surprise when I turned around and noticed that I had climbed a steep hill.

Before lunch, I spent most of my time walking around like this, exploring freely, not really thinking about where I was going. The sun was warming up by now, its heat clinging to my clothes in a way that was soothing. Behind me, the sound of footsteps was becoming less frequent, the road I was walking on had neither stores or any shops. I soon came upon a large park called Giardino Bardini, which overlooked the steep hill I had just walked up, and the rest of the city that lay below it.

Standing there on the gravel path, looking out at the sunbathed city, for a small moment I longed for the smell of pinetrees and getting my feet wet by lingering rain in the grass.

But the moment passed. Everything that was good here effectively erasing whatever longing I had. I could not allow such longing, not for that.

* * *

After lunch I decided to explore the other, more busier side of the city – where Helen had taken me. But I did not choose the same path, instead I wanted to see the smaller, less expensive shops. I was not interesting in shopping per se, but I knew that this place was famous (among other things) for their fragrant perfumes and soaps – and I hadn't brought any with me to italy, since flight regulation only allowed a small amount of liquid, which I instead used to pack extra toothpaste.

I am very particular about that, dont ask why.

I passed by some of the more expensive shops on my way, stopping once in awhile to look in the windows, but never going inside. I knew that if Helen had been with me, she would probably have dragged me into all of them.

Just because something was expensive didn't automatically give it more meaning. Sure, wearing a dress made of satin didn't make me feel bad, but it was not something I could wear everyday. Feeling more than a little intimidated by the stern shopkeepers that seemed to glare at me as soon as I entered any shop, I ended up retreating to a nearby department store. After browsing around, I found a nice body spray with a subtle lavender smell, which I purchased.

After the purchase, I continued wandering down the road lined with smaller shops – and my curiosity was piqued when I saw a large, painted shop sign in green, surrounded by a bright gold lining. The sign read, _Libri antico- e altre curiosità._

 _Antique books and other curiosities._

* * *

I didn't really know what I was doing, going in there. If someone from Forks would have seen me then, they would either have started laughing or outright asked me the same question. Like I said before, I wasn't exactly known for being...smart, I guess.

But I had really liked Aro's book, had finished it twice since then. I figured that, if I could get through that, then perhaps I could...

"Benvenuto, signora."

I jumped at the voice, my eyes finding the check-out counter and the old man standing behind it, smiling at me. I was barely inside the shop, one foot still on the pavement outside. I blinked several times, before nodding at him in greeting.

"Oh, buona giornata." I said, almost stuttering, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind my ear. I must have looked startled, for he started to wave his hands about, motioning me to calm down.

"Oh, an american! Don't mind me signora, just look around – see if there is anything you like." he said before turning away from me to a tall bookcase behind him, reaching up to put something back in its place. I watched him for a moment before I walked inside, taking note of what the interior looked like. It had a very musty smell, almost like mold but not quite. Other than that it looked like your regular bookstore, except for the books themselves.

Most of them looked very old, the spines cracked and some of them with the pages bended and wavy, like somone had thrown the book in a lake. Not very strange, since the sign outside did say "antique books". But not all of the books were in such bad shape.

One of them, which my eyes had zoned in on, had a familiar author written on its spine. It was sitting on a low shelf, making me crouch down in order to get a better look at it. I heard the shopkeepers footsteps approaching me, but this time I wasn't startled.

"Ah, a fan of the classics I see." he commented, to which I didn't really know what to say. I had no knowledge in this area.

"I've only read one other book by him." I said, standing up again with the book now in my hands. He tilted his head as he looked at me curiously, no judgement or scrutiny in his face.

"Really, which one?"he asked politely. Usually, in class, this sort of question posed to me would have been the beginning of a challenge, or as a way to redicule me. So it was with some reluctance that I answered him.

" _The Time Machine_." I said, and the shopkeeper smiled, nodding his head several times – he looked pleased.

"Oh, that's a good one. Yes, very good. And that one in your hands is even better – has a happy ending too." he proclaimed, pointing to it. I looked down at the moss green cover, the ornate letters of gold that read _The War of the Worlds._ I shrugged, considering what he was saying.

"I don't really care much about that, as long as the journey is good. " I said, not really expecting any sort of reply. But again I was startled when he laughed, not a mocking one but one full of joy. He pointed at me several times and smiled triumphantly, like I had passed some sort of exam.

"Ah! Young people like you should read more often. You see what it brings you? Good ideas, good thoughts."

Five minutes later, I had somehow been convinced to buy the book – and oddly enough, I was looking more forward to reading that than going to the party later tonight.


	17. Florence Revisited Part II

_Author's note: I swear, you guys really wanted an update didn't you? Well now you have it! I really struggled with this chapter, but hopefully that won't be noticeable._

* * *

After I had visited the bookstore I still had a few hours to spare until I was going to meet up Helen and the others, so I decided to find a spot in the shade and take a break. I bought a bottle of lemonade from one of the cafe's and found an empty bench further down the street.

I was tempted to start reading one of the books I had bought (yes, I bought several of them) but I decided to save that for later, when I got back to Volterra. After taking a short break and shugging the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, I decided to do some windowshopping while the road would eventually take me closer to the restaurant in which the ball would take place.

Just like that bookshop, there were a great number of similar shops in this area – selling vintage clothes, jewleery and furniture. While some if it looked nice, other stuff looked just too old and too worn to ever consider wearing or buying. But it was interesting nontheless.

Everything smelled so different here than what I was used to. It's kind of like when you're younger, and its your first time at a friends house, and how one of the first things you notice is what their home smells like. Maybe that's odd, but it was always one of those things I took particular notice of.

In italy, no matter where you were, everything smelled like a mixture of old and new. It was like dust, spices, nature and something nasty underneath, something that was almost scrubbed clean but wasn't.

I continued past the shops and saw a child run down one of the narrow streets, laughter ringing in the air. Curious as to where this street led, I walked closer and looked around the corner. There was a whole group of people milling about at the end of the narrow road that opened up to a small park, and judging by the people with all the cameras and the white marble statues that stood there, it had to be the site of another ancient monument. Florence had a lot of those, I knew.

* * *

Normally I wasn't very interested in them. Of course I found it beautiful just like anybody else, but beyond that I didn't linger on it much. Of course I had my moments of curiosity – like that strange room back in volterra, filled with all the moldy books and broken things. I still thought about it alot, but I hadn't asked anyone from the Volturi about it. I felt like it wasn't for me to know. I shouldn't even have gone in there in the first place.

But this was out in the open, and still it felt like I had just stumbled upon something almost equally private. But why?

I stepped out of the narrow street and joined the large group of people, as I started to inspect what sort of monument it was. There was not much to see, crumbling ruins of a stone building that had partly sunken into the ground and eroding sculptures of two soldiers in a fighting stance, facing each other. People walked freely, and there was no protective fences around – meaning that whatever this had been once upon a time, it was not considered _that_ culturally important to preserve.

A small section of the building remained intact, a domed in sort of hallway that led out to nowhere. But that was not what captured my attention. On the walls of this hallway, someone long ago had carved images into the stone. Most of it had eroded away with time.

But not all of it was gone. There were words carved into the stone that remained – not that I could understand any of it. Most of it looked like names, but then between these were other strange markings, that at first just looked like jagged, vicious scratches – but then I fully realized what they were.

Fingernails. They were marks from fingernails digging into the walls.

Suddenly my head started to hurt and I felt, for some reason, afraid. I started backing out of the hallway, my eyes never leaving that wall with the markings on it until I bumped into a tourist from behind, at which point my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to burst through.

"Hey watch it!" an american yelled, who had dropped his camera when bumping into me. I didn't pay him any attention, instead I looked around in fear at my surroundings.

It felt like everyone was staring at me.

I turned on my heel and ran. It took a long time for me to stop running.

* * *

When I had finally calmed down, several blocks away from the monument, I sunk down against a wall and just tried to catch my breath. What had happened back there? There was nothing for me to be scared of, logically I knew that was true.

And yet, a large part of me told me that whatever I had felt was not unfounded. That place...it was like it had jogged a memory that I had repressed, but I could not put my finger on what that memory was – whatever it was that I remembered that made me feel so awful felt more like a dream rather than reality. Or more like a nightmare.

The nights since I had found that secret room, I had been having these dreams. There were not always clear enough to remember, just a feeling of it still lingering. But sometimes, I would see things, places that looked familiar but I could have sworn that I had never seen while awake. One of these dreams took place in a building similar to that monument. It was dark then, a fire burning somewhere outside, the smell of burning meat premenating the walls. I dont know what I was doing there, but I knew that I was just as afraid then as I had been today. Two voices whispered to me in harsh tones, but that was not what made me afraid. It was the visitor in the room with me who would not show himself.

The visitor would move, the light from the fire outside casting his profile in a hellish glow. I would scream and then – nothing. I woke up.

But I had nightmares before, and considering my family, maybe it wasn't so strange to have such dreams.

* * *

"Hey, are you alright? You look pale." The worst part was, Helen was right. I rolled my eyes at her, adjusting my satchel against my shoulder.

"I'm fine Helen, you dont have to worry about me." I said, crossing my arms over my chest as she tilted her head at me, her eyes searching mine, like she didn't believe me.

"If you'd like to go home instead I would understand..."

"I said it's fine."

Actually, I did want to go home. But I figured the party would distract me from what had happeend earlier, get me in a better mood.

It was around 6 pm when I met Helen and the others outside the restaurant. I had quickly changed into my dress at a nearby clothing store in one of the changing rooms. It was a simple cocktail dress in eggshell white, sleeveless and the hem cut just above the knee. I had put on some peach-colored lipgloss and mascara on my eyes, but not much more than that. My freckles looked weird when I hid them behind foundation and powder, so I rarely put any on. Angela, another secretary that worked for the Volturi was among the group tonight, and she was giving me a strange look that was suprisingly not hostile for once. We worked in different offices, so there was rarely any interaction between us. But lets just say that she had not been exactly warm and welcoming either.

"I have to say, you look good Rebecca." she said, nodding thoughtfully. I smiled a little too sweetly back at her.

"Thank you Angela, I'm sure that's a huge compliment coming from you." I couldnt resist saying, making the other volturi employees snigger. Fuck it, none of us were working, we were not at the office – I could say whatever I wanted. But Helen gave me a warning look, and I schooled my expression into something apologetic and meek. She looked back at the other women in our group, and they all stopped laughing at once.

" _Dai_ , lets all get along – you promised remember?" she said, and they slowly nodded back at her, expressions glum. Yep, it was going to be a good night.

* * *

After we had left our coats (or personal belongings) by the coatroom right by the entrance, I realized just how fancy the event was. It was slightly reminiscent of the dinner party the volturi hosted a couple of weeks back, but not so medieval. The ball was in full swing by the time we arrived, and the place was packed.

Every room was brightly lit, and couples swirled together on a large dance floor, accompanied by classical music provided by a live band in another room. All tables had been removed or pushed away to allow more space for the guests to move around and mingle, and waiters came past me, holding trays of h'ourderves or glasses of champagne. It was not like any of the houseparties I had attended in Forks, that was for sure.

The other women from our group quickly dispersed inside after having a welcome drink, and Helen suddenly saw an old friend an old friend across the room so she excused herself to go talk to them. Leaving me to stand by myself at the bar. Great.

Maybe this way I could avoid being pressured to dancing – not that I disliked it, but again, my sort of dancing was more at home at a club rather than at a ball like this one. I grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter, taking a careful sip of its contents as I surveyed the room around me. I noticed a group of men from the other side of the bar, grinning at me and staring. I decided to tactfully ignore them, turning my attention to other things.

Like the very familiar looking man with pale-blonde hair who just stepped up to the bar next to me, speaking to the bartender in fluent italian. He was dressed in a maroon colored tuxedo, the blue adding to his pale complextion.

" _Due bicchieri di vino bianco, per favore."_

"Dr. Cullen, is that you?" I asked, surprise evident in my tone of voice. To his credit, when he turned his head to face me, he only looked slightly taken aback. Couldn't say I blamed him for that. After a short moment he smiled aimably at me, and I smiled back.

"Rebecca Somersen, what a coincidence." he said, his voice still smooth and almost timid. I put my champagne glass down on the bar counter and put my elbow up on it as I faced him. I had met him many times before, as he had been one of the doctors regularly present at sporting events in Forks in case of an emergency or a sudden injury. There was always someone who sprained an ankle or cut themselves on the tiles at the bottom of a swimming pool.

"I could say the same, what brings you to Italy? Are you on vacation?" I asked, curious. I thought the Cullens never took longer trips than their wildlife hikes. Carlisle nodded, explaining himself;

"You could say that – my wife and I, we do this trip every year." he said, and his hazel eyes went to some spot in the room when he mentioned his wife, Esme. And just a moment later, she appeared at his side, effortlessly beautiful as always in a stylish, black dress, a lace mask covering her eyes. Some of the guests came in disguise, as Helen had described to me was the custom for this ball – but not obligatory.

Esme removed the mask when she approached us, smiling graciously at me as she put a hand on her husbands arm casually.

"Rebecca, what a surprise! I had heard that some of the students from the school were abroad for internship programs, is that what you are doing here?"

"That's right Mrs. Cullen, I was very lucky to get it."

"Congratulations, where is the internship?"

"Not in Florence, but Volterra. I am an intern as a secretary for the Volturi."

A strange sort of silence came over the Cullens when I told them this, their smiles suddenly stiff on their faces. I was about to ask if I had said something wrong when Carlisle blinked, and it was as if nothing strange had happened at all.

"Oh, well. That sounds very important. And you're doing well here then?" he asked, squeezing his wife's hand between them.

"Yes, I am actually. They've treated me well – I hope to have gained enough experience to actually move to europe after I graduate high school." I said, and Esme nodded thoughtfully.

"That sounds like a good plan, your father must be very proud of you." she said. It was said with good intentions, I'm sure. I hadn't actually spoken a single word to him since I had arrived in Italy, almost a month ago now. But there was a reason for that. A very good one.

"Yes he is, thank you." I said.

* * *

After that they excused themselves to go join the other dancing couples. Meanwhile my stomach was beginning to rumble, and I approached the buffet that was available in one of the other rooms. After a hurried (but satisfactory) meal on snack food and italian delicases, I went back to the room where the band was still playing – only now, it had been exchanged for another one, playing music that was a little more modern, and a little more upbeat. The guests who had danced earlier had all retired either to the veranda outside or simply gone home.

The lights in the ceiling had been dimmed, and the people on the dance floor was no longer moving serenely in time with the music, but bobbing their heads along and jumping up and down. The doors to the outdoor veranda had all been opened, where guests were talking in groups, laughing in their masks. Fairy lights had been set up in the trees that surrounded it, making it look like they were surrounded by lit candles. The sky was almost pitch black by now, as the hour was nearing midnight.

I thought I saw Helen move across the dance floor, her familiar long blonde hair visible in the throng of dancing people. I tried to get to her, but it was so crowded by now that it was hard to make your way across it without getting shuffled around, bumping into people left and right. Meanwhile, the music was getting louder.

 _When all is dark and there's no light_

 _Lost in the deepest star of night_

 _I see you_

"Helen!" I tried to call out to her, but the music was swallowing the sound of my voice. I couldn't see where she had gotten to, so I turned around on the dance floor, intent on getting out of here. It was then that I got my other big surprise for the night. I bumped into yet another person, but this one didn't want to let me go.

I moved my hands to his arms, intent on shoving him away until I looked up into the person's face.

I was looking at Aro, and he was calmly looking back at me, the dimmed lights casting shadows across his face. I had no idea what he was doing here, or how he knew that I would be here too. I wanted to ask him these things, but he seemed content to stay on the dance floor, with me. He was dressed impeccably, as usual. But tonight, his suit did not veer into any other shade than black. The shock and suspicion on my face must have been clear, because he averted his red eyes – just like he always did when he meant to say that he meant no ill will towards me. His eyes instead moved to my hands, carefully moving to hold my hand with one of his own.

Nobody had ever touched me with such gentleness before. Like he was afraid I might break.

We were dancing, but not to the music that was playing. Oddly, I did not mind it.

Feeling bold, I reached out to his face – my fingertips moving his head so that he would face me. I did not want him to think that I was afraid of his peculiar eyes – maybe I had been, at first. But now, I found them beautiful. The same color of open wounds, but none of the pain. Our eyes met once more, and almost unconciously, I dug my hand into his arm, the material of his suit crinkling under my touch as we danced. His hand intwined with mine was cold, but the rest of him ratiated warmth – the expression on his face captivated by what he saw as his eyes remained fixated on me.

We danced like this for a long time. I do not know exactly how long, but at some point my eyes began playing tricks on me. I saw these flashes of- shadows, all around us. I tried to dismiss it, but when I looked back at Aro, I noticed that his eyes looked different – no, not different – just gone, gorged out. There were no eyes, just something black as coal – glimmering. And smoke, I could smell that too – there was a fire somewhere, must be.

It was trailing us, that smell. Like it emanated from him – apart of him somehow. It was not lust, passion or anger. Just destruction – a raw need that could never be fulfilled, and it lived inside of him.

* * *

But I had to be wrong. That couldn't be. I was just tired, and it had been a long day already. I tried to take a deep breath in order to calm myself, closing my eyes and opening them. Aro must have noticed that something was wrong because he stopped, tilted his head at me questionably. I motioned for the open doors leading out to the veranda, and he quickly understood what I was trying to say.

When we got outside, I took a good, long look at his face. It was back to normal now. Sighing with relief, I leaned against a nearby tree and breathed deeply of the midnight air. Aro stood a few feet away, gazing at me intently.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and I nodded, shaking a hand at him dismissively.

"Yes, I was just getting dizzy." I said, as he reached up and picked an orange blossom from the tree, inspecting it with a clinical air – almost like he didnt know what it was.

"Hmm, I see."

I tilted my head, regarding him for a moment. He was kind of eccentric – tthat much had to be said.

"You danced pretty well in there, you know." I said, and he looked up from the flower in his hand, his grasp on it tightening before letting it go, falling to the ground in a mess of crushed petals.

"I only did because you were there to make sure I did not trip." he said, wide eyes blinking as he stared at me. A startled laugh escaped me, as the mere thought of someone like Aro being clumsy was blasphemy.

"Ha! _You_ , trip?" I asked, not believeing a word of it. He smiled, coming to stand next to me by the tree, looking up at the stars.

"It has happened, on occation." he said, sighing as if the memory of it was embarrassing. I shook my head, grinning.

"I believe that when I see it."

We said nothing for awhile as we looked up at the stars together. But I could feel that he was building up to something.

"I wanted to...apologize. About what I said before. It came out wrong, and I am sorry for it." he finally said, his voice more somber now. I sighed and shrugged, thinking it over.

"Well, you were right about most of it. Your delivery could have been better though." I said, trying to make a joke out of it. But he was not laughing. Instead he turned to me with a strangely intent look in his eyes, like what he was about to say was extremely important. But he had to stop several times, as if he was not able to find the right words. He licked his lips and looked at me, my hands, my face – then finally he looked away.

"I would like-perhaps this request will seem strange to you but – I would like us to be friends."

I blinked a couple of times at him and just stared. Why did he want to be friends with a high school kid? I could possibly not matter that much.

"But you are my boss, technically. Wouldn't that be, I don't know, weird?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and he sighed in frustration, one of his hand scratching at the bark of the tree.

"But you want to. I can see it, I can feel it. What is _wrong_ about that?" he asked in a near whisper, so that i had to lean in close to hear him. It was doing strange things to that organ in my chest, making it beat faster than what was normal for me. When his eyes fell to my lips, I hastily retreated, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear as I looked away.

"I don't know." But I did know – it was there now between us, that unspoken attraction. This friendship was a slow road to another one paved with rocks and sharp edges. I could not go there. When he next spoke, his voice was much more gentle, encouraging and sweet. He was closer now, his voice as clear as my own thoughts, but I did not want to turn around to face him just yet.

"I only offer you friendship. I am not going to do anything that you do not wish to happen." it sounded like he meant it. But could I trust him? _You can't trust anyone, remember that Rebecca. You know what happens when you trust somebody – they make you do things, and then you'll hate yourself for it. Never trust anyone again ever-_

I turned around and faced him, my hair falling across my shoulder as I did. His eyes followed it like an addiction, like he couldn't get enough of these things about me. Then our eyes met. The way he looked at me...

Something just felt right, when we were together. Something that I had never felt with anyone else before. But it was more, deeper than that. This connection that we shared was strong, too strong for two people who just met.

"Is that a promise?" I asked, my voice quiet. He laughed – a small, desperate chuckle full of disbelief. Then it was gone as soon as it had appeared, his mood jumping from one to the other like night and day. He came up to me, so close that we were only a foot apart. He looked at me like I had just given him the best gift possible, his expression full of awe.

"It is an oath." he said, his voice dark.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's note: Sorry for the super-short chapter this time, the next one will be much longer! Oh, and happy december :)_

* * *

If someone had told me a couple of months ago that I would be working as a secretary in italy, as well as meeting someone like Aro – I would probably have laughed.

The days following the ball, I had felt something between us growing. I know he said that he wanted friendship, but we both knew that it was about more than that. And for some really mad reason, I had said yes. But if that was a smart decision, I did not yet know. But he was so different from any man that I had ever met. He made me feel good about a lot of things I hadn't been able to manage before. Despite his many eccentric habits, and his strange apperance – he never made me feel afraid.

And he was so gentle, so kind that it made all my butterflies go away – it kept all the bad thoughts at bay. A few days later on a normal weekday I approached him once again in the library, giving him back the book. I thought that he would inspect its condition, since it was a first edition and probably considered priceless – but he just tossed it aside on one of the many tables, his eyes never leaving my face – his unblinking gaze almost unnerving but not like before. Now it made me nervous for entirely different reasons as I swallowed and looked down at my hands.

"You read it?" he asked raptly, and I nodded, smiling. My head didn't hurt when I smiled these days – probably because it wasnt faked.

"Yes, and I really liked it actually. Took me awhile to get into it though." I said, my voice thoughtful. Aro blinked, some of the intensity dissappearing as he got up from the chair he had been sitting in by the table to put a book back in the shelf behind him.

"You're young, you have all the time in the world to read." he said. I looked down at the floor, not really knowing how to phrase what I was going to say. I didn't want him to think I was slow. His opinion of me was becoming increasingly important.

"No, i mean I do but – I never really read much – before. "

Instead of offering comforting words, there was a few minutes of silence as I heard the shuffling of papers, a book being pulled from one of the shelves, a slight cough from him before he launched into a recital of – well, one of the strangest poems I had ever heard.

" _All that doth flow we cannot liquid name_

 _Or else would fire and water be the same;_

 _But that is liquid which is moist and wet_

 _Fire that property can never get._

 _Then 'tis not cold that doth the fire put out_

 _But 'tis the wet that makes it die, no doubt."_

He shut the book with one hand elegantly, as it closed with a quick snap.

"So, what do you think of that?" he asked as I frowned in thought.

"It's….not very good." I said finally, and he nodded to himself.

"You're right. And yet, she is a published author. People have read it and liked it. It is true that it never harms to read a book, but it all depends on just what book it is. What part of the book I borrowed you did you like?"

I moved closer to the table and sat down in the chair opposite from his. The surface of the table was so neatly polished, it was looking down into a mirror.

"It confused me at first – but when he went on his journey, things got really interesting. I could picture it clearly in my mind."

Aro moved around the table as I talked, books being gently placed on his side of the table with quiet thuds. He disappeared behind a shelf, but his voice was still clear when he spoke.

"And what could you see?" he asked. I sighed, as the familiar feeling I had when I had first read the book came back to me. Despite the fact that I had never read any books about a dystopian future, the whole scenario felt familiar to me. But that's not what I said.

"The world he describes – its kind of sad, in many ways. And yet he falls in love with someone." I say, thinking back on the wilted flowers the time traveller took back with him, the only memory of his brief time with the girl.

"And is that what it is? Love?" Aro asks, his voice laced with malice and distain. It startles me, as not but a few minutes ago he sounded quite different.

"Well, it certainly sounded like it. "

"And I suppose you speak from experience?"

* * *

Sometimes he will do this. His mood will simply turn on a dime, and the nice Aro is replaced by this taunting and enigmatic stranger. My nose wrinkles like a rabbits and I cross my arms on the table.

"No. I have never been in love before. But that does not mean that I can't recognize it in others. " I say, and Aro emerges behind me with yet another nameless book in his hand. He looks down on me thoughtfully, his black hair falling freely across his shoulders like a curtain.

"You are right, it is sad. An intelligent being falling in love with someone with the mental capability of a vegetable."

I slouch back in my chair, my mind made up on the matter.

"But that does not make it less real." I say, not really looking at anything.

"Why not?" he asks infuriatingly, and I don't know how to answer him – I just know.

"I don't know, it just doesn't. "

He shakes his head at me, then sits down again in his chair.

"Youth and their emotions ruling every decision – yes, I forgot about that. Is that why the story is so dear to you?"

For a few moments, I just glare at him as he looks back – unblinking. I scoff and looked away.

"If you are just going to continue dismissing my opinion, I won't give it at all." I say, aware that I probably shouldn't smartmouth to my superior but he did insult me and my temper has never been particularly controlled. But instead of looking snubbed, Aro looked quite the opposite. I hadn't been looking at him for the last couple of minutes, and now that I did I noticed that he was looking at me again like _that -_ like I was someone worth knowing, worth breathing for. Like I was some sort of miracle brought down from the sky. The red in his eyes was poignant, almost violet and bruised. For a second, I almost expect him to do something - instead he smirks, the cruel smile at odds with the emotion in his eyes.

"You are wrong. I value your opinion most highly."

I am going to tell him something smart in reply, instead of the truth – what he wants to know. Thats what I was going to do, but something – in the way he sits so close, his hands on the table nearly touching mine, his face so close but not in a leery, creepy way, just curious – it makes me act and say things on impulse. I can't control myself around him, it seems.

"Actually ah, its familiar to me. Somehow."

"Hmm. Interesting. How do you mean?"

Reluctantly at first, I tell him about that feeling I had when I read it – a feeling that at once was comforting, but also frightening. I tell him about the monument I saw in Florence, and about the cell. I tell him about the strange dreams I've been having. I tell him that I think that all of it is somehow...connected.

Meanwhile, Aro is still like a statue. His expression unreadable.

"That sounds really strange, doesn't it?" I ask and laugh somewhat awkwardly after awhile when he doesn't say anything. A frisson of _something_ flickers in his eyes, before he smiles shakily, a strange laugh bubbling out of him.

"Well, not the strangest thing I've heard. No, not at all. "

I don't know if this is the smartest thing. Confiding in him like this but...I feel like I can't say any of this to anyone else. I don't have anyone like that. I mean, people have other people – families, friends. I may have both of those on the surface, but that's all just a facade – I know that, but I dont like thinking about it. I don't like telling the truth to myself. And its been so long since I said something to anyone that was real – given a part of me that hurts to expose.

Aro is that person now, somehow. It hurt to tell the truth sometimes, but telling the truth to him is okay. It must mean that I am starting to trust him, despite trying not to.

"Do you think that it is something...bad?" I ask, my voice small. I dont dare to look at him when I ask this.

I almost flinch when his cold hands cover mine on the table.

"No matter, _agnellino._ We all go a little mad sometimes."


	19. Chapter 19

"An avalanche starts with one pebble. A forest with one seed. And it takes one word to make the whole world stop and listen." '

\- _Jay Kristoff_

* * *

After living in italy for a month and a half, quite a few things had changed.

I no longer avoided people on the street, but smiled and said hello if I recognized someone. When I arrived at work in the mornings, my co-workers didn't stop talking or turn away. I was always neatly dressed, my long ginger hair carefully brushed. I would smile at nothing in particular. My skin was getting more and more freckles from the constant exposure to the sun, and had gotten a certain kind of glow that I had only seen on models in magazines. I had found something work-related I could do (and do well) that was not related to sports at all.

And of course, most importantly, I had a pet cat – one that was an expert climber and loved chewing at my expensive shoes.

I told Lana about him over the phone when she called unexpectedly while I was at work – luckily it was on my lunch hour so I didn't get any ugly looks for it. Nevertheless, I went outside to the small piazza to talk. It was windy outside, but the air wasn't cold, just soothing. The sun was just hiding on the other side of the white stucco building that was our office, the sun bearing down on the large fountain and the other buildings across the way.

"You definitly sound happy." Lana commented and I smirked, leaning against the stone wall behind me.

"And I didn't last time?" I asked and she laughed.

"Well, not really to be honest. I wonder what could have caused such a _big_ change..." oh no, I knew where she was going with this. I tilted my head back and rolled my eyes.

"It's not a guy Lana, you know how I feel about that." It was true, that while Lana and I had known each other, I had only dated a handful of guys. The reason I'd told her was that I simply didn't need anyone else like that, which was true most of the time.

"Do I?" she asked playfully, taunting.

"Well, the people I work with have become a bit more friendly." I said, which was also true. But Lana wasn't buying this, not completely.

"Is one of them possibly an attractive italian male?" she asked, her voice coy and knowing – I was always bad at hiding things from her. I relented, sighing as I turned around to lean my head againt the wall, my hair framing my face in a long red curtain.

"Maybe. But he's much older and besides, he's also kind of my boss. " I said, my voice much quieter than before as this was not really something I wanted my other co-workers to hear – even if most of them dispersed at lunch hour, they could return at any moment and overhear me.

"Ah, I see. And you don't want to be the gullible assistant falling for an older man's charm. You have a point there, I guess." Lana said, managing to sound sly, dissappointed and bored at once. Not that I blamed her – I wish my life could be less complicated.

"But we're friends. Sort of." I continued, which was in retrospect, the wrong thing to say, because that made me realize that we were NOT in fact, friends by any normal standards.

"Forgive me for asking but what does _sort of_ mean in this scenario?"

"I don't know. I'll tell you when I figure it out."

* * *

Something else that was different though was the number of co-workers. Earlier this week, I had noticed that Marion's desk was suddenly empty – cleaned out. And I hadn't seen her around for at least a week. And the weird thing was that everyone else at the office didn't seem to notice her absence all. Helen walked past as I was sitting by my own desk, so I thought I'd ask her about it.

"Hey Helen, did Marion quit or something?"

Without pause, Helen continued walking to sit by her own desk, all the while giving me her answer.

"She was offered a better position somewhere else." she said, sounding a bit distracted. I noticed that her face looked a little pale, and there were dark spots underneath her eyes.

"Really, where?" I asked, just out of curiosity. Helen looked up at me from her computer and shrugged, her eyes straying to the empty desk – where her gaze lingered for a long moment.

"I don't know actually, I wasn't here when she picked up her personal belongings."

* * *

Later that same day, I ran into Aro on the steps outside. He told me that he had a meeting to attend, but that he'd rather show me something first, if I didn't mind. Curious, I agreed.

We went inside the building with the dome, down a set of stairs I was familiar with by now since they led to the floor with the library. But instead of going in there, we walked past it and came upon a large wooden, heavy looking door facing the south side of the building. When Aro opened it, a lush garden was on the other side. Stunned, I slowly walked outside.

It was not very big, but the overgrown trees that stood there made it seem much bigger than it was. Their leaves hanging like vines down to the ground. Roses climbed the wall outside, and a thick green hedge surrounded the garden, protecting it from the outside world. And beyond that, one could glimpse mountains on the horizon, the ones that surrounded Volterra. There was a stone bench underneath a poplar tree with a lions face carved into its side. I let my hand skim over it, it was smooth and worn to the touch.

" I didn't even know that this was here!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide as I took it all in. Aros mouth quirked into a small smile as he watched me.

"That is because this garden is privately owned. But I thought you might like to see it." he said as I walked out to sit on the bench, bathed in sunlight.

"Do you own it?" I asked as I leaned in to breathe in the smell of pink roses growing next to the bench. The smell was strong and fragrant, and reminded me of fresh honey. Aro paced close to the wall of the building, in the shadows.

"The company does. It belongs to all of us here."

I shook my head as I stared out at the amazing view below the garden, the steep cliff and the untamed nature beyond it, the olive trees that grew far from each other and the plane trees that seemed to cover every other surface, their bright green leaves shiny, reflecting the bright sunlight. It was almost like the wilderness back home in Forks, except here it really and truly felt wild, deserted almost. I liked that part the best.

"It's so beautiful here." I said in the quiet, my voice small and breathy, and at first I wasn't even sure I had said anything.

"Can I give it to you?" Aro asked, his voice uncharactericstically light and hesitant – his words coming fast, like he didn't have patience enough to say it at a normal pace. It made me turn to him abruptly, a frown on my face.

"Why do you say that? I thought it was for everyone." I asked, and Aro blinked twice, like he hadn't expected me to answer with a question of my own.

"I lied. Only two other people usually come here, but they don't appriciate it. I assure you, they would not miss it."

I breathed out a short, incredulous laugh. He really was too much sometimes.

"I can't just _own_ a garden like this sir, besides I am sure it needs a lot of care to keep it this way." but Aro waved away my logical concernes like it was nothing. He walked a few paces closer to me, but was careful not to step into the sunlight.

"It is well cared for, no need to fret. You own it, you decide who enters here. " he said, then let his red eyes drop to the ground, making them glitter as they reflected the sunlight – turning them into the same color of a deep red sunset.

" And that includes me."

I stared at him, confused.

"I don't understand."

He looked up at me again, eyes moving quickly. His voice grew darker now, less hesitant. My eyes watched his chalky hands as he talked, and it was like watching a marble statue come to life.

"There has been people in your life, I think, that have betrayed your trust in many things. I can see it in your eyes. I want to give you this place as a sanctuary, if you will. A place where only your rules need apply." he said, and the way he said it was definite, but careful. Good thinking. What did he know about me exactly, to say these things? Had the school contacted him somehow – I had visited our school councelor twice, but nothing good ever came of it. Had that information travvelled?

But no, he couldn't know – not that. He wouldn't respect me as much, and he definitely wouldn't give me a garden. _What does he want in exchange? That's the real question here Rebecca._

I didn't say any of this, instead I fixed him with a long, dark stare as my nails rasped at the stone beneath me.

"That is a big assumption, Aro." I said, and he tilted his head to the side, ducking slightly. His dark hair slipped over one toned shoulder at the movement, and for a second I was distracted by it.

"But I suspect it is an accurate one Rebecca. Correct me on this if I am wrong."

Angry, and partly because he was right, I didn't say anything. I heard his footsteps as he moved closer to the door.

"I can leave, if you would like." he said, sounding sincere. After a moment I shook my head quickly, not looking at him.

"No, I don't want that."

"Then what do you want? "

That was a good question. What did I want? As per usual for us, any good conversation usually became some sort of argument. He pushed me yet he didn't – it was like he knew something vital that I did not. But what that could be I didn't know.

But I did know that I could start to feel his presence, whenever he was near. I felt it like the heat of the sun, something that warmed me up from inside, and went away whenever he did. That feeling became stronger everyday now. But it wasn't like a crush – those never felt this intense. I brushed some hair behind my ear, my mouth opening and closing a couple of times as I was trying to figure out what to say to him.

Because as nice as this feeling was – it also frightened me. I didn't know what he wanted from me.

"I don't want you to go. But maybe you want something, that I can't give you." I said, voicing my fears.

"It's just as I told you before – I only want your friendship."

I rolled my eyes at him, since I think we were both past that label by now as it was obvious for both of us that was not the case.

"I think it's more, you want more from me. Correct me if I'm wrong." I said, parroting his earlier words.

The sun had been moving in the sky, allowing more and more of the shadows to overtake the garden. Aro moved with them, just a foot away from me now. His dark clothes clashed with the pastel flowers, his burgundy suit absorbing the dark rather than the light. His approach was accompanied by a strange sort of predatory look, one that was full of heat as he stared at me for several moments in silence. It made me sit up straight, watching his movements carefully as he got closer. I almost flinched back as he moved out his arm towards me. But then he ghosted a hand – not on my cheek, but right over my heart – never touching, just hovering over that part of me like he could feel my heartbeat. Like it was a power of its own. When he spoke, his voice was sinuous and dark, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When I dared to look into his eyes, I saw them burn.

"Smart girl. Yes, I do _want._ " he said, almost making me shudder. Even though he was physically not warm, something about that gesture was so full of heat that it made my heart pick up its , he removed his hand and turned away from me, like whatever we were just doing was too much, too soon.

" But those rules are the same – only you decide what you want to give." he continued, his voice now devoid of whatever had come over him a moment ago. The whole garden was in shadow now, the forest below and the mountains now bathed in light instead. I shifted on the bench, my mind made up.

"If this garden is mine, than you have to promise me. My garden, my rules." I said as he turned around on the spot, and for once he was the one that looked confused.

"Promise you what?" he asked.

"Promise not to hurt me. _Ever._ "


	20. Chapter 20

_author's note: Well here it is, the 20th chapter! As someone commented on in the reviews on the issue of the age difference between Aro and Rebecca, yes it is iffy and that's sort of the point. In Twilight, the age difference between Bella and Edward is often shrugged off because they both "look" like teenagers, even though Edward is like 200 years older than her or whatever. This fic highlights many of the issues I have with the twilight books, and will continue to do so even more further on. Though this is a romance too, it is a lot more darker take on the human/vampire love trope._

 _Also, with this chapter we officially enter the M rated area!_

* * *

One thing I did not expect to see during my stay in Italy were the scorpions.

One morning I woke up to see one crawling across my bedroom floor in an unhurried fashion, meanwhile I was doing my best not to panic. After capturing it under a glass from the kitchen I made a call to Helen – as she had given me her private number for emergencies. I considered this to be such an occation.

It was the same color as liqurice, the surface of its shell shiny in the morning light. It kept clawing at the edges of the glass so I had to hold a hand down on top of it so it wouldn't escape. Helen answered on the third ring and I wasted no time in telling her what the matter was.

"There is a scorpion in my bedroom." I said, my voice still groggy with sleep but alert enough to speak clearly. Helen however sounded almost pleasantly surprised.

"Ah, you've finally met!" she exclaimed. I blinked a few times.

"I beg your pardon?"

"They're just like little bugs – harmless." she explained as I warily peered through the glass as it continued struggling to get out, its claws opening and closing rapidly.

"They're not poisonous then?" I asked, and Helen laughed.

"No, no. Their sting hurts like hell, but nothing happens. Did you leave a door open during the night?"

"Yeah, my balcony doors. "

"Ah, it came in that way then. Leave some lavender there tonight, and they won't come in. It deterres them."

"Okay, duly noted. I'll see you at work in a little bit. Thanks for the advice."

"No problem, _tesoro_."

I hung up and sighed, relieved and a little embarrassed. The scorpion had ceased its movements, yet its tail kept twitching.

* * *

I was meant to be looking over some paperwork, but somehow I kept spacing out, unable to focus.

Since that conversation with Aro in the garden, I felt conflicted. Someone older, more experienced might have said that it was a bad decision I made. I'm on my own here, and contemplating to involve myself romantically with someone older. Just how old he was, I had no idea. Not that it was anything new to me. Even though I might not be able to trust him, I was confident that I would be able to avoid another ambush, like the night at that party. I could defend myself, if necessary. My body was strong since many years of physical training, and I hadnt done anything last time because of the shock.

Even though he had promised, I knew that men treated promises as mere words. Nothing more. So why did I agree?

I flinched when someone put a hand on my shoulder, my head quickly turning to see who had approached. It was Marions replacement, a woman named Elenor, also an american like me. Her hazy blue eyes regarded me closely, a concerned look on her face.

"You don't look so good. " she said, making me snap back to reality.

"What?" I asked, my voice sounding a bit strange.

"Did something happen?" Elenor asked, seemingly with no agenda behind her question. If this had been Marion, she would have come down hard on me for slacking or something like that. It was a nice change of pace. I managed a smile and shook my head slightly.

"Oh, no. I'm just a bit tired is all." I said, and Elenor nodded, sighing with what almost sounded like boredom.

"Well, why don't you stop working earlier today – it's been a little slow here as it is." she said, looking around the office, which was unusually peaceful and quiet.

"Really, is it okay?" I asked, but I was already putting away my work to be finished the next day. She nodded, walking away to her own desk to continue working on something on her laptop.

"of course, just relax and feel better."

* * *

I hadn't expected it but, taking half a day off from work was just the thing I needed. I really liked the work I was doing, but it was hard when I had so many things on my mind. I decided to go for a swim in the nearby outdoor pool facility in town, which I had heard much about but never visited until now. I knew that normal teenagers, given the chance to be even near a pool would spend most of their summer vacation in it or near it. _Stop, Rebecca, Stop it !_ It would be nice to cool off and forget about everything else for awhile.

The pool technically belonged to a private spa next door, but they had made it so that it was available to paying customers who just came to swim, like me. I went home to the apartment and gathered my old bathing suit and a towel in a tote bag, along with sunglasses and some moisturizing cream. It was just after three in the afternoon when I set off, the lasting heat from earlier in the day disappearing slightly. But the sun was still high in the sky, and would probably remain so until late in the evening. It was around this time that most of the shop owners took their siesta, even the convinence store was temporarily closed.

But more than relaxation, this was a test.

It had been a few years since i last went swimming like this. For good reasons.

But things were different now. I was in another country, there were no teachers or students watching my every move. The trees here didn't shake in the cold darkness, but swayed and shivered from the heat. I was different here, wasn't I?

I calmed down a little when I arrived at the pool – there was a few other swimmers around, but not enough to make it crowded. The pool was very large, and deep enough to dive into. An older italian woman was sunbathing in one of the many foldable beach chairs, while an employee from the spa was doing some maintendance work in the background.

After paying the fee by the entrance I quickly stepped into one changing area and put on my swimsuit. As I walked right next to the edge of the long pool towards the deep end, I focused on the walkway under my feet - hot from the blaze of the sun.

It was not that I didn't value my life. My survival instincts were strong. It was just that sometimes I hated myself so much that I could see no other way. Did I hate myself today?

* * *

The cold water initially relaxed me, but it never calmed my mind.

So I did a couple of laps back and forth, focused on my breathing, on silently plowing forward. My muscles ached a little – it had been too long since I practised like this. I had forgone using a cap on my head to cover my hair, instead I let it plaster over my head and shoulders. The bathing suit was a new purchase, a gift from Helen from a couple of weeks ago.

 _You could show a little more skin, amico._

It was a bikini – the first one I'd ever owned. Even though I thought it would feel exposing, it felt quite the opposite. It made me feel somehow more free in the water. It was not really revealing either, since the top was more like a sports bra.

 _It was something my old coach would have liked very much._

I pushed away harder with my feet when I reached the other end of the pool, turning around to swim to the other end. My breath was coming short, and my legs were starting to burn. Still, I kept going. As long as I kept moving, my thoughts would fly away.

The air in my lungs was not a problem, I could do this forever If I had to.

* * *

 _The water was getting progressively darker, and my movements more sluggish. I could no longer see the bottom. There was no sound anymore from the birds or the people on the surface, the water did not splashed as I moved._

 _The stars moved above my head, white flames that moved so fast that I had to turn away._

 _No matter how hard I tried, my movements were slower, weaker. Yet, I did not mind it._

 _There was only a muffled roar in my ears, as if I were at the bottom of the sea._

 _When I looked down again, I saw something. A large shape at the bottom of the pool. It looked like seaweed, with bits of it floating above the dark mass. Pieces flew away from the bottom, but they were too dark for me to make out. When I looked closer, I saw what it really was._

 _People._

 _Dead of course. Piles and piles of them, on top of each other. None of them had eyes. The bits flowing above the pile were hands, reaching up to the surface. They looked old, like they had been there for a long time. There was no blood. Most of them were rotting, decomposing, falling apart._

 _Then, amongst all of them, the head of a small girl peeked up from the pile – whose eyes were still intact. She was staring up at me, and then just once, she blinked._


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's note: I hope everyone has had a nice christmas( I know I did). Short chapter I know, but I'll post a longer one after the new years._

* * *

The light returns, and little by little, so does the sensation that I am no longer in the water. I am lying down on something flat and hard, my body still wet. When I open my eyes, my vision is blurry and the light is almost too bright.

Then my chest heaves, and I cough, long and hard. Water falls out of my mouth, several gulps of it – my body twisting to the side instincitvely to get it out of me. My shaking hands grip my stomach, which hurts. But I don't know why. I have to focus all of my energy on breathing, though it hurts, and for several minutes I lie on my side, breathing rapidly like a scared animal.

My mind starts racing, trying to understand what has happened. The last thing I remember was being in the water, enveloped by it, safe. Protected. I couldn't understand why my lungs are burning, or why I felt like I had just come back from a cold place.

Then I can hear a voice above me, one that I know instantly who it belongs to. But why is Aro even here? Even though my vision is still hazy, his dark clothes and pale skin is unmistakable. My vision is hazy and his skin looks like it glows. He is kneeling at my side, and when I reach out my hand and touch his knee, I realize that the fabric of his clothes are soaked through. He's breathing hard too, from what I can hear. I can feel him shiver all over.

When our eyes meet, his widen as his hands grip my shoulders tightly – the force of his hands almost painful. The white of his eyes are pink, and its a startling sight. He's shaking me, and his face – its twisted with some sort of desperation that I have never seen before. When I try to listen to his voice, I realize that he's speaking way too fast to understand any of it. It's almost like he's speaking gibberish. He lets go when I do not speak or answer him, but he still continues to shiver.

I begin to sit up, trying to reach for him – but I'm still catching my breath, so I have to stop every couple of seconds to gather strength. But finally I do. I glance down at the pool – I am no longer in it. I can't stop staring at the bottom, but no matter how hard I look, what I saw is no longer there. There is nobody around but me and him.

"You didn't mean to do it, did you?" he asks, his voice steady and calm even though his apperance says otherwise. I don't answer at first, only stare at the water, still so calm and inviting. I don't know what to say.

"If that is what you still want..." he mutters, shaking his head. He has turned away from me now and I can't see the expression on his face. Then suddenly he stands, water dripping from his hair and clothes. He begins to walk away. And he doesn't look back, not even once. I don't know why this pains me more than anything I've ever felt.

Perhaps it is because he cared enough to find me here. Nobody has ever done this for me, not ever. Suddenly I feel panicked, watching him go. I feel like a creature gone mad, rising on legs that still shake, breathing with lungs that feel too old and too heavy. I brace myself on a chair behind me, before hurrying after him. Maybe its my imagination, but his pace slows down as I catch up to him. My hair clings down my back like a wet rug and I know that I must look a mess, but I don't care about any of that as I hug him from behind, my thin arms winding around his torso and the side of my face pressed to his back.

 _Please don't go._

There's a lump in my throat as I try to speak, but I know that I must say something. I can feel hot tears falling down my cheeks as I hug him tighter – I can feel him breathing under my hands. He has not pushed me away just yet. There's no warmth from his body, but I don't need it. I press my face against his back, the muscles beneath his wet clothes tensing.

"I'm sorry. Aro, I'm really sorry. "

* * *

After that, he takes me home to my apartment - carrying me part of the way. I still cough every now and then, but we pretend I don't. Even though it was me he found at the bottom of the pool, he seems similarly affected - tired and worn out by what happened. I try to tell him to go home, to get out of his wet clothes - but he doesn't move from his spot on my couch.

The stare he gives me in response is somber, decisive. He looks like someone ready to snap, to scream or yell. Instead he starts staring at my cat with an intensity bordering on absurd.

"I won't leave until I've seen you showered and dressed. Then you will eat something and I will watch you. " he says slowly, his tone of voice not allowing any objections.

* * *

As I'm showering, I can hear footsteps nearing the closed door to the bathroom. Is he there on the other side, listening? Does he still think that I'm going to...

I don't finish that thought, as I know by now what he must be thinking. He has been right about many things in regards to me, and this is just one of many. But instead of it being creepy it just makes me feel...cared for. Nobody has ever given me this much attention.

* * *

He's still in his wet clothes that smell of pool water as I'm eating a quick microwave pasta meal, sitting opposite him by the the kitchen island. It's starting to be a little weird. He stares at me as I eat, following the journey of the fork to the plate to my mouth several times, a thoughtful expression on his face. It continues this way throughout the whole meal, and neither of us say anything. When I'm done and have thrown away the plastic container from the meal I have every intention to tell him that its time to go, that I'll be fine now.

But I don't want him to.

Something in my face must have told him this, because he rises from his chair, the first clear and quick movement from him in hours and it makes me flinch. There was intention in his eyes just then, but it falters and dies at my reaction. So now, he understands.

But instead of being disappointed or disgusted - because he must have guessed, must have known by now, he slowly puts the chair back in its place and gathers up his wet office blazer from where it has been hanged out to dry on the balcony before coming back to me in the kitchen. And as if he has already done it a thousand times, he quickly smoothes my hair away from my face and kisses a spot on my temple. Then he leans back and smiles down at me with gentle eyes.

"I will go now, but I would like to come back tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's note : I know, this chapter is a bit short but it is only because the next one is going to be SO long. :) Thanks for all the nice reviews, always appreciated. And yes, since you've asked, I am doing well and am currently wrestling with uni assignments + brainstorming for original stories + writing articles + three different fanfic projects at the same time._

* * *

After he left, I did not know how to cope with what had happened. For a long time, I just watched the door. Was this better than dying, this feeling of being loved, despite how ugly I was inside?

I don't know. I still don't know. I am too ruined to answer that question, even now.

I felt so drained that I went to bed earlier than usual. I did not sleep well, perhaps not strange considering. No dreams though, none at all. For that I was grateful.

The last concious thing I was aware of was the black cat in my care, which had curled up on the covers next to me, something he rarely did.

The next day passed by in a strange lull, like a peaceful dream as I simply went through the motions at work. I think I was in shock. I knew that Aro had not reacted as a normal boss would, under the circumstances. But he cared for me. I believed that much, but I did not understand why. I was just a teenage girl, a nobody.

There had to be more than this. I was no fling to him, otherwise he would not have looked so upset when he rescued me by the pool. He cared for me more than anyone I had ever known.

* * *

Later that day after i got home from work, he knocked on my door only an hour later. He had brought food with him in a plastic bag from a nearby restaurant, one that i knew was exceedingly expensive. It would have been so easy to believe that this was something he did often for other women.

He was rich, good-looking (though strange and eccentric) and charming sometimes without even trying.

But he looked so uncomfortable, so out of place in the brightly lit apartment that I almost wanted to turn the lights off. He seemed to favor the dark of every room, as he often clung to shadows and rarely stood in direct sunlight. The balcony doors stood open, the distant sound of church bells announcing the hour.

"How have you been?" he asked, not looking at me but further into the apartment, at the crumpled bedcovers. I dismissed this as just another facet of his odd behavior as I decked out the food on the table out on the balcony.

"Fine. " I answered, not really wishing to talk about it. Aro seemed to take the hint as he changed the subject. He looked at me over his shoulder, considering.

"I hope you like the food – I rarely go there myself." he said.

"Do you cook instead?" I asked, the idea of it not that all farfetched. He shrugged and hummed in response.

"Hmm, something like that. " he said before joining me on the balcony.I noticed that there was only enough food for one.

"You're not going to eat?"

"I already did. But you look famished."

* * *

I was afraid that this was all he was here for. To absolve himself of all guilt and make sure that I didn't do anything stupid. Ask me questions that everyone has already asked. But he did none of those things. Instead he started talking about my books, about Jules Verne. Wanted to know which ones I had read, and what I thought of them.

I answered him as best as I could inbetween bites of fettuchini, as he sat opposite me by the balcony table, watching. He looked feral today, a strange half-smile on his face as if he had done something naughty. But he quietly listened to me speak, our conversation flowing along easily. But I still didn't understand his side of all this.

"Don't you think it's boring, talking to me about this?" I asked, trying to be frank. He tilted his head to one side and looked puzzled by my question. But I don't think he was, infact I think he knew all too well what I was talking about.

"Pardon?" he asked, and I snorted.

"I mean, I'm hardly an expert on these books. I'm sure most of the symbolism goes right over my head most of the time. My opinion is not that important or groundbreaking. In fact, I am what you'd call a novice of all things."

"Oh yes, that's right. That's a common mistake people make around you, isn't it? " he asked, his eyes seeing too much of me, making me blink and look away.

"What mistake?" I asked.

"That you don't know more than the average person. "

"That's not- no that's not what I mean. This- all these things you keep doing for me. How can you care for me, when you can have anyone? " _someone older, someone with a better mental stability._ I was not even upset about this, it was just a matter of logic. I was trying to understand. It had gnawed on me for some time now.

There was a moment of quiet as we simply stared at each other, trying to read what was there. I could sometimes tell what was on his mind, his eyes being so expressive at all times. I couldn't now, but there was something about him just then that frightened me, just a little bit. Like I was seeing something very sharp at the bottom of the sea, the wreck of some terrible machine from wars long ago that was only just now resurfacing.

"Because you are what I've always been searching for."


	23. Chapter 23

_Author's note: Remember when I said that this chapter would be longer? I actually meant the chapter after THIS one! Oh and on the subject of twilight vocabulary, I will not be using the whole "mate" thing and all that it implies. It just feels so...I don't know, it just makes me think of what Tom Hanks says in You've got Mail about sea lions and mingling._

* * *

There were just two weeks left of july now. This internship would wrap up in late august. On paper it seemed like there was a long time left, but to me it wasn't enough. I wondered if I could postpone the fall semester – or make do a makeup test and skip my senior year altogether. It was a possibility I had never dared to consider before. I could leave Forks forever if I wanted – I could apply early to a college in another state, then after that move to europe.

I could move to italy, and stay here forever.

A lot of things had happened since I got here – not all of them good but, the people here were different. I felt accepted, and cared for. I wouldn't have to see my father everyday. And I did not think that Aro would say no if I asked for an employment with the Volturi, eventually. My clothes that day matched my bright mood – I was wearing a pale yellow sundress of a delicate fabric, almost like silk but not quite.

I was at work when the phone at my desk suddenly rang. Without thinking, I picked it up and answered it in italian.

"This is the volturi seceterial office, how can I help you?" I asked cheerfully, not expecting a familiar voice on the other end.

"Rebecca, is that you?"

"Dr. Carlisle?" I asked, surprised. Why would he of all people be calling here?

"Yes Rebecca, it's me. Listen, are you alone right now?" he asked, sounding oddly agitated. I frowned and tried to turn away from the others at the office to make the call more private.

"No, I am at work with the others. Has something happened at home, with my father?" I almost whispered.

"Nothing like that, he is fine. Look, I am going to call you at home later tonight. It's important but I can't explain it right now. Just stay home tonight, okay?" he asked.

"Sure, I can do that."

* * *

I had almost forgotten about the strange call until the second one came later that night. I was curled up on the couch with the cat beside me, reading a book when I heard it. People rarely called the phone number to the apartment, since I had a seperate cell phone.

"Hello?" I answered tentively.

"It's Carlisle. Are you alright Rebecca? Are they...treating you well?" he asked, sounding uncertain and cautious. I had no idea why.

"Who are you talking about?" I asked, completely mystified.

"The Volturi."

"Oh, yes they are. Why are you asking me that?" I asked, and I heard him sigh sadly. He was silent for a long moment.

"I wish I could explain it without making it more complicated for you. Listen, I think you should leave italy and come back home." he said decidedly, as if he had the right. I frowned as I started pacing the floor, not liking this conversation one bit.

"You make it sound as if I'm in danger." I stated, anger at his words building up inside me.

"I think you are, Rebecca. You have no idea what sort of people they are." he continued, making me snort out loud.

"What sort of people? The high school looked over their records before I came here, just like with all the other internships, Volturi is not involved in anything illegal." I answered, which was true – they checked everyone who was going overseas for their internships to make sure that the places we were going were safe. But Carlisle was not convinced, far from it.

"I'm afraid it's worse than that. But I cannot reveal it to you – you'll have to find out yourself. Just do it fast, for your own sake." he said, sounding very serious. Then I heard the phone click as he hung up on me.

What sort of right did he have to call me up twice to basically threaten me about this? None whatsoever. Why would he and his wife come here if it was so unsafe? I shook my head at it all and dismissed him as overly paranoid. As if I would go back now.

* * *

The next day was unusually cloudy, the entire sky coated in fine white cotton. Aro had visited me during the lunch hour to say that he would be quite busy during the next couple of days, and thus unable to see me. Him being head of the company and all, it wasn't exactly surprising news. But what was surprising was my disappointment over this news.

When I wasn't with him – when I was working in the office, I would rarely think about it. I did not make plans, nor did I pick out outfits to wear with him in mind. He was, on paper, just like any other man. And I did not date much in general – I'd had a boyfriend or two in the past and I was no longer a virgin, but there was no joy in that. I dated and I fucked because that was what people expected of me. They did not see how broken I already was, or if they did they tried their best to ignore it.

One of my ex-boyfriends never commented on the fact that I used to cry during sex. Maybe he thought I was just young and scared, like every other kid in school. When I sucked him off he used to call me names too, which I never paid any attention to. I never looked forward to any of it. For me, any contact with the opposite sex was something to be endured, like a punishment. I could pretend well enough though, and I had done so for years.

If you can pretend to love someone, how do you know when you feel the real thing?

I never thought I would meet a man who could see me – and all those things I tried to hide so well. Even though I want to die when I think about it, every time Aro gives me that look – as if he has seen inside my head, every knock and cranny – it lets something out. It makes me breathe a little easier, even though its at a price.

He hides something too, this I know. He is worse at it though than me.


	24. Chapter 24

_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the wait, been a little busy as of late. As always, enjoy!

* * *

I was in the library the next day, as Helen had sent me there to collect some archive books for a client. I decided to take my time, since I was by now familiar with the place and didn't have to rush. Aro had said that I was welcome to borrow anything that I wanted, but I just wanted to look, to touch. It was becoming a favorite thing of mine, browsing through books. It had a calming effect on me.

And there were so many here – most of them first edition copies, old and rare. Some even had the edges of the pages dipped in gold, the covers ornate and beautiful. I knew that the library was frequented by others - though I had never seen them. It was a very quiet place, so any noise made was amplified.

That was why I was surprised to find another person when I turned a corner by one of the shelves – it was Marcus, one of the owners of the company. I had only seen him a handful of times before, and heard him speak even less. He was not browsing through the shelves however, instead he was observing a lone orchid, placed as an ornament on one of the reading tables. He was a very old man, with deep, sad lines running through his face. Though his eyes always looked tired, I got the feeling that he was more energetic than his apperance allowed. I quickly bowed my head when I saw him.

"Signore, good day."

He turned slowly at the sound of my voice. I heard him take a huge breath, before letting it out in the same time he responded to me. His voice was muffled, old and weary.

"I trust I find you in good health."

"Yes sir, thank you. " I answered. He made slow gestures with his hands, as if orchestrating a symphony that wasn't there.

"We must always look after those who are loyal to us. Tell me, how do you like italy? Is it...beautiful?"he asked, which I thought was odd. He said it like he wasn't sure himself. Nevertheless, I gave him an honest answer.

"Uh, yes I like it very much."

"Then perhaps, you have already seen our beautiful places. The churches..." I felt a little guilty at that, since I hadn't really paid much attention to that, other than my visits to Florence.

"Well, actually I haven't had much time for that. Not that I mind, at all." I was quick to add at the end, since I didn't want to come off unappriciative. He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded.

"I think I see. I have not have much time to see these places for myself either. But tomorrow, I am going to visit the church of santa del sole rosa. Do you know it?"

I shook my head. There were many churches near and around Volterra. I had never been inside any of them though.

"If you come with me, I can tell you much about its long history. And we can wander in their beautiful rose garden."

It was an unexpected invitation, since I had only talked to this man a handful of times before. While I was not particularly interested in the church, but the mention of the garden piqued my interest. Though I had to wonder – why invite me at all?

"Alright signore, I will come with you."

* * *

We did not go there during the day. Instead, his driver called my home at 6 pm in the evening, telling me that the car was waiting right outside to drive us there. The sun was still up, but it was approaching evening. I made sure to change my work outfit into something a bit more formal (and less sweatstained) for the occation.

But what was this occation? An impromptu church visit at night with one of your bosses? Then it occured to me that he knew about Aro, and what we were doing together. Nothing physical of course, but it was still not a business relationship – not anymore. He could have told someone, and this was just a meeting where I'd be told to pack my bags and go home. I hoped that was not the case.

"Well, better put on my sunday best..." I muttered to myself, digging out a burgundy cotton sundress from the closet, much cheaper than the high end clothing I'd recieved from the Volturi. I'd bought it on a whim from one of the smaller boutiques in the village, sleeveless and the hem ended right below the knee.

When I got down to the car, the driver stepped out and opened the door for me. But besides me, the car was empty. At my confused look, the driver shrugged and looked back at me in the rearview mirror.

"He is already there, Miss."

* * *

It was not a very long drive, just around fifteen minutes or so. I could easily have walked the distance, but I didn't know I'd be riding there alone in the car. When we approached the church I realized that I sort of recognized it. I must have run past it on one of my evening jogs, just not paid it much attention.

It was true what Marcus had said – it was a beautiful building. And in the orange light of the sunset, it truly looked like a place of facade had obviously been restored somewhat, but it had been done with respect and a great deal of care. I did not know much about architecture, but it looked old – very old. It was more of a chapel than a church, the size much smaller.

I did not see Marcus standing anywhere outside the building, so I went inside to look for him. It was much darker inside, because there were no electric lights. Instead it was wholly lit up by either candles or oil lamps. It was near empty inside, save for a few people sitting in the pews, silently praying. Near the front, where the altar was, there was a big window behind it – painted glass. A picture of jesus looking down from the sky.

But I did not see Marcus. Not until I heard his voice did I see him. The similarity between his apperance and that of the jesus in the painted glass was jarring – both of them looked ethereal, somehow. But Marcus wore all black, and his eyes were not full of forgiveness.

"Rebecca. Here, come see." He was standing near the entrance by what looked like a monter. It was a small area that looked part of a museum. There were old pictures of the chapel from the early 19th century hung on the wall, old wooden carvings of angels that had fallen off the main structure at some point but been salvaged.

I found myself fascinated by what I saw, though it was not usually my idea of a fun evening. I walked over to where Marcus was standing, looking at old biblical scriptures that had been put under glass, obviously too fragile for people to touch.

"I hope you find my company not too bothersome." he said, not taking his eyes off the scriptures as he talked. This was something he had in common with Aro – they were both aware of how intimidating they could be. And they made sure to bring it up quickly, like the person they were with became scared otherwise. I moved to stand next to him so I could see what he was looking at, showing that I was not intimidated.

"No, I was just surprised to be invited." I said pleasently, smiling.

He looked at me for a long moment then before his eyes swept over our surroundings. We both listened in on the sermon taking place for a moment, a preacher with a deep, solemn voice. It sounded almost like he was chanting. His voice echoed in the building, despite its size.

"Are you a religious man?" I asked, curious. Marcus blinked slowly, and he turned his head away when the preacher held out a chalise of wine for one of the patrons to drink from. Unlike Aro, Marcus eyes were different, yet similar. His eyes were darker, more purplish in color.

"One does not have to be in order to appriciate the beauty of devotion. And besides, they want the same things as we do. " he said, before walking in the opposite direction, down the aisle and stopping near the entrance – on the opposite side of the wooden carvings hanging on the wall. There were something kept there under protective glass as well, along with a historical plaque above it.

"Churches aim to preserve order, to remain faithful to history. That is something to be admired." he said in his slow, methodical voice. I looked down at the display and frowned, trying to understand what I was looking at. It looked like a collection of parts from a shipwreck – some of them too small to really understand what they were. Small, rectangular rocks that looked like they had been carved by hand. Old pieces of leather, something that maybe had been clothing once upon a time. Metal tools that looked broken, only leaving jagged edges behind.

"What is all this?" I asked, and Marcus smiled. It did not look like he did it often.

"At first glance, it does seem unimpressive doesn't it? They have not been able to recover much, nothing recognizable to the naked eye. Around 20 years or so, they did a local archeological discovery nearby of a settlement – they dated it to be from around 200 B.C. This is what they found.

"he said calmly. As my eyes went over it again, I focused on the one thing that seemed to be intact. It was a small silver pendant, dented and the silver darkened to a charcoal shade. Its surface had carved details – the profile of a lion with its mouth open, its head turned to look at something behind it. As I stared at the pendant, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Particularly because the necklace – the one I usually always wore and could not find back home, it looked the same as this one.

"A settlement of what?" I heard myself ask, my voice strained.

"Slaves, Miss Somersten. Believed to have been captured when france's many tribes were exterminated when emperor cesar came to power. Most of them were killed of course, but the rest were brought over here and sold off. The settlement was a prison. "


	25. Chapter 25

_Author's Note: Lol yes, it's another chapter with none of the previous mysteries resolved! Nice huh? Just stay patient kids, all good things come to those who wait._

* * *

"Miss Somersten? " Marcus's voice was there, and he was asking me something. I had turned around, put my hands over my eyes like a child who does not wish to see something awful. It felt like I had stared into the lens of a camera snapping a photo, the flash burning away everything into a white haze. But there was something else. A memory. Of something that happened long ago. Something deeply painful.

I knew now, for a certain fact, that I had been here before.

"Are you alright?" he asked, though making no approach to touch or come near me. My breath hitched violently a couple of times – then whatever had come over me was gone. I lowered my hands and looked down at the marble floor, breathing deeply. I did not feel like myself anymore.

"I think I feel...I think it would be best if I went home for the night."

"Very well. The car will take you back to your apartment shortly."

* * *

As the car drove me back, I felt too restless to stay still.

It was impossible, and yet everything in me, for some time now had been trying to tell me that somehow – this was not my first visit to italy. And I had a feeling that something bad had happened here. Something very, very bad.

This was more than just my issues about home, about my father and what awaited me there if I returned. This was about something older, something bigger.

I leaned my head against the glass of the car window and shut my eyes tightly. I did not want that to be true.

But deep down, I knew it was.

As soon as the car pulled up outside my apartment complex, I hurried upstairs and shut the door behind me and locked it. But it did not make me feel safe. I paced around the living room, trying to calm down. Yet everytime my body tried to relax, my heart started up again, beating furiously, like it was trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

So I did what I always did whenever I was too scared to think, to sit around in one place. The only thing right then that could have cleared my head. I put on a light tank top and a pair of sweatpants and head outside for a run.

* * *

The trees looked like nothing when I passed them by. Just a dark blur of green and blues, the hot wind getting into my lungs, making my throat dry. My legs were burning, but I couldn't stop moving. Didn't want to.

I could see nothing and hear nothing, figures of people passing becoming fewer and fewer. Something brushed against my arm, scratching it – a bransch. My hair had come loose over my shoulders, copper red flashing before my eyes whenever I turned my head.

But I kept looking at the sky. I couldn't look away from it. It was red tonight, the sun just fallen in the horizon, leaving a blood-red trail in its wake. It's a time when people disappear of their own choosing.

Under the red sky, I belong. This is not the twilight hour, but a time of its own that belongs to me.

* * *

It's not until I run past the sign saying that I've reached the next town over that I realize that it's time to head back. I laugh at myself, a sound of relief. I have found myself again. I feel calm again, as much as I can ever feel anyway. I feel like I can do anything, like I'm the only person in the world still alive.

 _And why would the world spare me?_ I can't help but think as I begin jogging back home. But I haven't forgotten about what I learned tonight. That somehow – the necklace, the incident at the pool, the music box I found in that forgotten room – it is all connected to me. The things I have seen , what I thought was just another facet, another sideeffect of being abnormal, may just be something that really happened.

But that means that someone here has died. I shudder as I remember the sight at the bottom of the pool. All those bodies, that little girl.I realize that i have to talk to someone about this once and for all. The Police perhaps? But what would they say to a girl who has seen things that are not really there? But I have to try. I must.

All I have for proof is the feeling at the bottom of my stomach, an instinct.

But some unconcious part of me is apparently not through for the night, because the next thing I now, I'm headed towards the glade near the quarry. I blink as I realize where I am, my mind occupied with other things. I don't know what time it is exactly, but I must have been out for some time. Not even the birds are chirping, only the odd sound of critters moving in the dark can be sky is dark now, a deep maroon shade that obscures and hides everyhting around me. There is no moon in the sky to light my way, only the faint light of the street lamps in the far distance.

But I'm not frightened – even though I probably should be. I feel very light here, in the dark. Like nothing can hurt me.

So when I see a pair of red, gleaming eyes in the dark – staring back at me without blinking, I'm drawn towards them. Like a particularly beautiful flower that only blooms in the night, the color stand out. Even though it's so dark, I can tell who they belong to. I can tell by the way he moves, the curious tilt of his head when I approach him so easily. I don't ask why he's here, out in the forest dressed like he just came from work. I don't ask him when he got back from his trip, or why he didn't call.

Even though there are words that need to be said, neither of us make a sound. But it's all there anyway, in the way I start to blush but not looking away from him at all – the way his whole body follows and turns in my direction. Like a predator zoning in on its prey.

His lips slightly parted, he stares at me with so much reverence, so much hunger – like a junkie. A bit unhealthy, a little mad, I realize. But I can't help what I feel. This hunger of his has become mine as well. It's in the trees as well as in my lungs, the ragged sighs that fall from my lips.

Before I lean in to kiss him, his lips tremble.

* * *

The way it happens may not be thought of as an ideal first time.

But neither of us seems to mind that.


	26. Chapter 26

_Author's Note: So finally, a few pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Major trigger warning for this chapter, since it deals heavily with rape and sexual assault._

* * *

"I'm not doing it dad. I'm not coming back."

* * *

They say that people who has experienced trauma at an early age rarely learn how to break free from it. That is to say, if they have no experience of a normal childhood, they do not consider the trauma as strange or unusual. That it is just part of their life, something that they have to live with.

You have to be strong in order to break away. If you show how you really feel, then it is all over. Then, you will never be free.

But its hard to be strong, or even know how. Especially when the only person in your life you can turn to is also the source of the problem.

The school counselor tried to tell me how to do it. Showed me brochures of where I could go – where I could live until I turned 18 if I went to the police. The bitch made it sound like it was so easy. But you can't really know until you've known nothing else but the taste of blood in your mouth and that constant stomach ache that never goes away, even when he is not in the room with you. And for most of your young life, you consider this normal.

* * *

I don't know what came over me when I did it. It was a couple of days after Aro had spent the night at my apartment, after we had made love.

He made me feel so safe, so loved. I was astonished that this could be so, that I could feel the things I felt that night. I thought I could never...enjoy those things. But Aro understood, somehow. It was evident at first in the way he held me, and the way he looked at me with awe and surprise when I was the one getting almost aggressive, craving more of him.

I wanted him. I had never truly wanted someone else like this. Perhaps it was because he was, in a way, a reflection of that dark part of me, the part that was molded after many years into something abstract and unpredictable. Why he wanted me at all was still a mystery. But it didn't matter really.

* * *

It is still not simple to sever an old connection, even if it is what you should have done years ago. But I can't back away from my decision now. I cannot allow myself that. I unconsciously start to pace around the apartment, feeling almost lightheaded.

"Sweetheart, what are you talking about? You belong here with me."

"No Dad. You know that's not true." _You know that's not right._

"I can't allow you to just stay there. Come home and we'll talk about this." he tries to plead.

"You've forgotten – I am going to be 18 in a month. There is nothing you can do."

He is quiet for a long time then, and I can hear him breathing – I hold my breath, old habit. And its true, even though its about a month away – he still wouldn't be able to get me back. _Standing right outside my bedroom door late at night, breathing, considering me through the gap in the door, where I'm lying in my bed, silently begging that he will go away. I could never tell what he will decide._

"And what about your life here? What about me? Honey, I miss you."

 _It was almost worse the nights when he decided not to. Because then, I knew the chances of it happening again the next night was bigger. But I never felt any fear. Just that thing in my stomach, the ache that had me ending up at the nurses office at school more times than I could count. It was useless to be scared, useless to feel anything at all. Sometimes I came up with excuses, being on my period and so on – but then he kept track of that too._

 _I unlearn the word for it, because as long as I never say it, it has never happened._

 _I took painkillers to keep my stomach from hurting too much. But this was all normal to me, even though I knew that other kids lived without this kind of misery._

 _It started sometime before Mom left. Not a big mystery why she did, considering. Not taking me with her was selfish though. I will never be that selfish._

The hand holding the phone starts to shake.

I've never spoken back to him before. Knew that would only make him more sneaky, more vigilant over my behavior. Make him take precautions. But it's like this _thing_ has taken over me now, and I get the same feeling I felt when I saw that dead little girl at the bottom of the pool – that eerie sense of calm, of clarity. A voice comes out of me that does not even sound like me – or rather, the girl I used to be.

"If you ever contact me again, I will not hesitate to go to the police. I can have Lana pick up my belongings and send them to me. "

I can tell that this is not what he expected to hear – there is another long moment of quiet on his end before he speaks again.

"You wouldn't do that. Not to your own father." he says, sounding so sure, pretending that he still doesn't know what I'm talking about. There are so many things one could say to that. But he wouldn't understand anyway. Instead I decide to be candid. I was prepared for him to say something like this.

"I have a recording of it. It's old, which is better. I took it when you didn't notice – surprised huh? " I start to sound hysterical, almost happy now, and maybe that's good. It sure makes him sound less and less sure of himself.

"Rebecca, I beg you-" he starts but I don't let him finish. My voice keeps getting more and more strained. My mind flashing with pictures from that recording – from the few times that I've made myself watch it.

"And the image is quite clear, despite its age – one can clearly understand what is happening." I say and he sounds near tears now, his voice cracking as he speaks.

"I never meant to hurt you, it was meant to bring us closer togeth-" there is a roar in my ears at the sound of his voice – his pathetic, weepy voice, like a small child who doesn't know what he's done wrong. Like he doesn't deserve this. It makes my blood run cold, and I scream. I say that word that has been banned from my world for so long. And it cannot be kept from me any longer. It tears out of my throat like poision being coughed up.

" _Rape never solves anything."_

After breathing heavily for several moments, I sit down on the floor, my eyes seeing nothing. And I think to myself – this is the last time I will ask him for anything, this is the last time that I will beg.

"I beg you dad, please. Just let me have the rest of my life. I will not tell them what I know, just let me have it."


	27. Chapter 27

_Author's notes:_ Sorry about the slow update, there's been a lot for me to do work related recently (which we are very happy about, thank you very much) but I really, really want to finish this - especially since we are soon to be getting into gore galore. Oh and if you haven't figured it out yet, Rebecca is not named that just because it sounds pretty... _Hitchcock HINT HINT._ Although I can honestly say that I never liked Laurence Olivier much...

* * *

After that phone call, I lost track of time for awhile.

It's not like blacking out per say – the dissociation thing. You are aware of where you are, but your mind just...drifts off.

It's not as unpleasant as it sounds like. Or maybe I was just used to the feeling. I lied down on the floor of the living room, the bright and cheerful sunlight warming my face. I felt drained and like I had aged several years in a matter of minutes. I watched the trees sway outside the window, saw a bird fly by – yet I didn't really see it. My body ached, and my stomach hurt like someone had kicked it.

I remained that way for a long time. It was a strange feeling being free – because even though I was, some sick part of me knew that I would always love my father. I would love him and I would hate him until the day I died, in equal measure.

Because despite all the things he put me through, he was the one who had raised me – he was all that I knew.

 _But not anymore,_ my mind whispered. I had Aro now. But then it said something else, something that I couldn't quite understand, but that I felt was true.

 _You never lost him in the first place._

* * *

A few weeks went by, and in that time I finally managed to tell Aro about the phone call, and how I wanted to stay in italy indefinately.

"You mean it? Is that what you really want?"

"Yes Aro, of course."

He took my smaller hands in his and just held them for a minute, looking at me with such awe and happiness that it made me laugh. I had never seen him so cheerful before then – like not a shadow could touch his mind, and in that moment I truly felt sorry that I had never seen his face in direct sunlight before – I had a feeling that it would transform him completely. His red eyes were more like a vibrant sunset, orange and tranquil when he was happy, I noted. But there was also a deep sort of grief etched into his face, just like there had been at moments like this between us before. It made a deep mark between his brows, one that made him suddenly look a lot older.

But I just figured that he was touched, so I didn't mind it.

* * *

When I look back at these events now, so many years later, I realize how much of a fool I was.

Strange things began to happen shortly after that. Things that I couldn't rationalize away, like I had with so much else that had happened during my stay in Volterra.

It was an ordinary weekday night when I first heard the screams. It was pretty late, and I was just about to go to bed. I heard it through the open balcony door, and thought at first that it was an echo – or maybe someone was watching a movie with the volume up. But then I heard it again, and this time the scream was not singular – but a chorus of screams. But it was so muffled that it was impossible to tell where it came from. But there was somehting about it that truly frightened me, and on instinct I think I understood that the screams I had heard were real. This time I did not dismiss the incident, and brought it up the following day with the other secretaries. But when I asked them if they had heard anything, the acted cool and disinterested.

"Maybe someone was watching a movie, yes?" One of them suggested, barely taking her eyes off her laptop as she said it. I frowned and shook my head.

"No, it did not sound like it." I said, and she shrugged.

"Oh well, it was probably nothing."

I turned to Helen who was sitting a few desks over, who had been watching the exchange with a strange expression on her face that piqued my interest. Perhaps she had heard it too.

"You don't think I should report it?" I asked her, expecting a sensible reply. Instead she blinked several times, like my question was baffling to her.

"Why? You don't even know where it came from, is that not what you said?" she asked me, and if I didn't know better it was like she was...pretending. Lying about something.

"Well yes but…."

"Then I suggest you try and forget about it." she said swiftly, getting back to work once more.

While they were right about the fact that I had no idea where the screams came from, I found their reactions odd and troubling. Like they didn't care at all – not even Helen.

* * *

When I got home that night, I noticed that I had 6 missed calls on my phone that I hadn't seen.

All of them were from an american phone number, one that I recognized instantly.

Why was Carlisle so adamant on getting in touch with me? He had told me to leave last time I talked to him – but for all I knew he was in cohorts with my dad. Ruling him out as a person to trust, I decided to block his number.

When I went to refill the cats food bowl later, I noticed that it was still full. And when I went to look for him, I could not find him anywhere in the apartment – nor was he outside.

All that I found was a black patch of fur hanging from a rosebush right below the balcony, along with some red, glistening spots on the flowers.


	28. Chapter 28

_Author's note: Wow, you guys are lucky! Two chapters in two days!_

* * *

It was early August now, and on a weekend afternoon Aro and I stayed together under one of the trees in the private garden.

We had originally intended to head into florence, as I wanted to visit another bookstore and Aro apparently had business to attend to there, but we were somehow not capable of leaving the garden that day at all. It was one of those dreamy days when anything you thought you would do just goes out the window, and you find yourself in that "nothing" place, where time seems to stand still. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, while I was just dressed in a simple sundress, my sandals lying discarded somewhere in the grass. I was lying across his lap with my head resting against his stomach, cold hands combing through my hair slowly. He was very quiet that afternoon, just content to sit in silence. I couldn't understand how he could not sweat, or how his body stayed so cool in warm temperatures like this. Maybe it was just because he was so acclimated to it.

I was looking at the stone bench, the grass growing carefully around its perimeter, how little of it grew where the sun didn't shine at all. My mind was not as peaceful as our surroundings, and of course Aro noticed it.

"Is there something on your mind?" he asked, and when I turned around in his lap to face him, his eyes were still closed. I licked my lips once and thought about how to ask him.

"Aro, is Volterra a...dangerous place?"

His hands stopped moving through my hair, but they remained there as his eyes opened a fraction to peer down at me.

"No, not for you. " he said, which made me frown.

"What do you mean?" I asked as he continued to look at me, not blinking.

"You will never have anything to fear, my little combattente. That is what I mean."

"I don't – I mean I'm not. "

"Then why ask?"

I was about to tell him then about the screams. But when I opened my mouth to answer, I found myself suddenly mute. I shook my head against his stomach, facing away from him once more.

"Nevermind, it was just a silly question."

* * *

Why didn't I trust him? For that was the reason why I didn't tell him anything – because something in my gut told me not to. But there was no reason for that. He had already done so much for me, even saved my life.

Later, when the sun came down, we went back inside the domed building – but instead of leaving it, Aro took me by the hand and led me up a flight of narrow stairs. I blinked a few times, confused.

"What is this, where are we going?"I asked, my voice echoing around us.

"To my home."

I was somewhat surprised that he lived in the same building where he worked every day – most people wished to seperate their work and their private life. The stairs ended two stories up, and if I wasn't in such great shape I would have felt a little winded. And it was not like what I had imagined.

I had not asked to see where he lived before, mostly because I felt that I did not have the right. Our relationship was not what you would call normal so far – and not a word of love had been uttered by either one of us.

Even though I had seen it, clear as a day in his eyes many times by now. I did not know what he saw in mine. There were other things that told me what he felt – along with a strange, powerful feeling that came over me whenever we were alone.

The things I felt for him were hard for me to convey, but I don't think he cared. He never asked much of me at all, in fact.

When he pushed open the heavy door that lead to his apartment, I could scarsely believe that this is where he spent his free time. I had expected something equally extravagant as his office, or perhaps something similar in style to my own apartment. Instead it was different, almost spartan compared to what else I had seen.

The walls had no colors – that is, they looked as if they had been the same color for centuries. The whole apartment in fact looked old – not a trace of modern anemneties at all. There was no television, no electric lights in the ceiling. If he did use candles, I could hardly see any around. The furnishings were old too, but kept in good condition.

I looked back at him, my eyes questioning as I moved around the living room, my hand moving over the back of the couch covered in copper-red satin. But he would not say anything, just smile.

But he stopped smiling when I came to stop and stare in the doorway of his bedroom.

It wasn't strange or very eye-catching, that was not why I was staring. But I noticed that there were no pictures anywhere – of friends or family, at all. The bed itself was beautiful, but looked like it had seen a fire once – the four poster structure looked charred in places, and the bed covers looked immaculate, in a similar color of the couch. But the room looked blank, like nothing.

I realized that it did not reveal anything personal about himself at all.

* * *

Later that night we made love, in his bed. He was more forceful than before, and with no lights around other than from the open window, his angular limbs looked pale blue. He looked almost like a ghost, and just as cold to the touch. Adamant on haunting me, on getting underneath my skin as much as possible.

But when I tugged at his hair, his eyes blazed and came alive – and a tender emotion flickered there briefly, before it was gone. Like he carried on some great sadness inside him that he did not know what to do with. I found myself saying comforting words as he rocked against me, but what for I did not know. _What can you possibly be sorry for?_


	29. Chapter 29

_Author's note: Whoa, so this chapter took a really long time to figure out. But now its here so YAY! We're getting into the third act of the story now, and soon all will be revealed._

* * *

Ever had one where you went through the motions of getting out of bed, getting dressed and then suddenly, at some point, something really out of the ordinary happens that make you realize that you're in a dream?

But the thing about this dream, was the fact that it was not morning – but still in the middle of the night. The space beside me where Aro had slept was empty – the covers thrown aside. The sheets were just as pale-blue as he was in the dark. I looked around the bedroom, but did not see him anywhere. Instead of calling out, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got up.

There was a robe at the foot of the bed that I put on before exiting the bedroom – I dont know what color it was – but it felt soft, warm. There were tiny white lights in the ceiling, like stars. The red furniture in the living room looked older, like they were made of something other than fabric – something that lived and breathed. Something that sang to me, no – it was a chorus of voices, moaning, caught in a neverending loop. They were trapped somewhere inside and I could not let them out. I couldn't.

Frightened, I looked away from them and called out into the dark for Aro. But he would not answer me, and he would not appear. But the stars above my head would not go away, and they were so quiet. It made me look towards the front door of his home – and to my surprise I found that it was open – the lit staircase beyond it shining yellow. My old music teacher was tuning the piano somewhere, his voice singing in words as bright as that light.

 _Oh pale yellow star, how near or how far..._

I walked down the stairs – the stone cold underneath my bare feet. But my feet were lighter than air, and so I barely touched the ground. It went so fast, and sooner than I thought I was standing in the main hallway downstairs. The roof was almost caving in and I had to hurry in order to make it to the other end of it – to get to that door.

What door?

 _The door that the secretary just stepped through. The one that is hidden by a switch in the wall._

I found myself happy for knowing this, not questioning how I could possibly know that. I pressed a small stone in the wall inwards and a door opened, and beyond it was another set of stairs. At the end of those, I realized that it led straight to the throne room, where the head of the Volturi worked. But I had never been in the upper level of it, the one that overlooked the entire domed room from a small balcony. There was sand on the floor, getting in-between my toes. It was running like a waterfall down the side of the balcony, evapporating in the air.

There were other people around me now, but they did not seem to care that I was there at all. Faces unrecognizable – apart from their mouths, which were red like blood. They treated me like I was one of them, put a hand on my back or looked at me fondly. We were all looking down at the throne room, like the audience in front of a stage, waiting for a play to start. Everyone was smiling, laughing. Some of those around me were throwing flowers.

 _It's a lovely day._

 _Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely…._

No, please no.

I concentrated and looked down where the others were looking – and wished I hadn't. At the center, a girl – not much older than me, was held up by two men at either side of her. She was being torn apart,they were holding chains that were connected to her arms and legs. Her middle was slowly breaking, but she didn't scream. Her mouth moved, but no words would come. She looked resigned, without hope. Eyes glazed over and damp, beyond pain. I stared in horror as her skin parted, giving way to purple, then blue and finally – bright red and white – the fat of her belly showing for a split second before her stomach burst. I was frozen in place, unable to help her.

But that was not all there was.

Next to this was a large pile of bodies, hands and arms moving around – people half-dead. They made no sound, but their mouths moved, twitched. Some with their skin burned clean off, some with their mouth and eyes missing – entire faces scraped off. And still alive. I was sweating by this point, water filling my lungs so that I couldn't breathe. I managed to turn away from it all, but I couldn't close my eyes.

 _I don't want to see this, I don't want to see this._

I saw the stairs that would guide me back to safety, back to the darkness and the blue sheets and the stars that were so remote and peaceful. I was nearing the stairs when from behind me, I heard his voice. I heard it as if he has whispered it into my ear himself.

"What's this? Dear girl, why do you cry? Your death means only more life for us. Your flesh is _weak_ , but your soul will live on. "

He was happy, rejoicing. His happiness was so total, so absolute – the screams and the sounds of tearing flesh making him laugh. I had never heard a laugh like that before. Not from him.

No. Aro wouldn't-he would never do that! He's not like that! This is just a dream!

 _It's real._

It's all me. All me. All in my head. I am this.

 **Time is running out.**

* * *

I awoke with a gasp, my eyes opening wide as I quickly sat up in bed, breathing hard. In the harsh light of day, one could usually forget their nightmares. But this one followed me, their images burned into memory like it was something I had actually witnessed.

I was grasping the sheets around me in a deathgrip, my heart beating so fast I thought it would break. Without thinking, without even checking if Aro was still beside me, I got dressed and hurridly left the apartment.

I had to make sure.

It did not take long to reach the hallway and the wall at the end of it that forked into two pathways, one to the main entrance and one leading to the lower levels, and the library. But once I got there, I hesitated. I was afraid – so afraid now. It didn't matter that I probably looked crazy, staring fixedly at a stone wall, shivering like I had a fever.

My body, my heart, my everything was telling me, urging me to stop and turn back. Continue my existance without acknowledging anything bad ever again. That if I did this, I would not have any strength left to face the consequences. I'd burn up in the sunlight like I was made out of paper. Like I was worth nothing, nothing at all. You will fade away, just like you wanted.

But my voice of reason, and that wild thing inside me that thought about that young girl that haunted my dreams, the girl that always appeared mutliated, rotting,tortured, horrified yet silent. I am doing this for you. My hands began searching the cracks in the wall, pushing and prodding. In my dream, there had been a switch. I prayed to god that this wasn't so.

My hands felt nothing out of the ordinary and then- a jolt ran through me as my left hand, without much effort at all, pushed one of the stones inward with a quiet click. A noise escaped me, a whimper.

"Rebecca, what are you doing here? It's not a weekday."

I turned around fast, noticing for the first time that I was not alone. Helen was walking up to me in the hallway, sunlight streaming through her blonde hair. Looking as she always did, perfectly put together and fashionable. But now, I was looking at her in a different way. Noticing the way her eyes darted from me to the wall in front of me. Think of an excuse, and do it fast.

"Helen. I just came from the library – Aro told me I could borrow whatever I wanted." I said, trying to appear calm, normal. Willing my hands to stop shaking, and for my heart to slow down. She nodded at what I said, and looked convinced.

"Oh, well I'll see you around on monday then?" she asked cheerfully, smiling. I think I smiled back.

"Yes, see you then."

As I watched Helen walk away, I realized that I could not investigate further in broad daylight. Too many people around – I could nto risk any of the other volturi employees catching me. What would happen then, I did not know. I did not even know what I had to fear – apart from my nightmares. But I had a terrible feeling that the Volturi was not a normal company. I began wondering how much the secretaries knew, if they were all as ignorant as I was.

And then I realized that there was an easy way to find an answer to that. I just had to log into someone else's laptop in our office.

* * *

When I walked back to Aros apartment in order to fetch my handbag, I saw a handwritten note left on the bed on the space where he had slept. After staring at it for a second I picked it up and read it.

Rebecca,

I had to go away on business ( and did not wish to wake you up). Forgive me.

I will return in two days time, and hope that you will still be here when I get back. I like seeing you in my bed. There is so much I like about you.

A.

A warm feeling blossomed in my chest when I read it, but quickly faded as I remembered the dream. I could not think like that, not now. He was the first person that I'd ever loved. To think that he may have done really horrible things...

I pushed the thought from my mind, crumpling up the note. I had to find out more. Before I could decide what I would do next.


	30. Chapter 30

_Author's note: So, finally another chapter update! Thank you for the wonderful reviews in my absence, they really do fuel my confidence a lot._

* * *

I went to the office when there was no one there – when it was empty of people, closed. But I had been given a key so that I could let myself in, if I happened to be the first one to arrive or the last to leave.

I made sure to go there at night, when everyone else had gone home. It looked no different in the dark, but it was somehow omnious when I, instead of turning on my own computer, I went over to Helen's desk and started up hers.

Within seconds, blue light flooded the screen.

My breathing was suddenly loud to my ears, but it couldn't have been – it was just so empty and quiet. The password screen came up and I bit my lip, thinking. That it wasn't too late to stop what I was doing, not too late to switch it off and go home – to quietly pack up my things and disappear. Nobody had to know.

I thought about the bloody patch of fur by the balcony, thinking that maybe I'd end up like that, if I stayed.

But if I did leave, I would never know – for sure. It could all be a crazy mistake, somehow.

The computers all had the same password, so that bit didn't worry me. Once I was in, I started looking through Helen's files on her desktop – a picture of the bellvadere as the background. I had no clue what to look for, but I guessed I was searching for anything that looked strange or suspicious.

The files didn't look strange – they were all labeled neatly, "Reports", "income tax history", "daily chores" and so on. I decided to check her email inbox, moving the mouse down to the bottom corner of the screen. Everything looked normal, until I decided to look at what sort of emails she'd sent to others.

This section was completely blank. I blinked, and clicked the little icon again, thinking that it just needed time to load. But still nothing. Maybe she had erased it for some reason, maybe cleaned it up. But why would she do that?

Her inbox was filled with mostly spam and newsletters form local magazines and bills from cleaning services. Nothing personal or sent from any private clients at all was to be found there. On a hunch, I decided to go back to the desktop and open up each folder, just in case.

I opened up "Reports" and found it empty.

I opened up "Daily chores" and found it empty.

"I opened up "Tax income history" and found it empty.

But this couldn't be right. I know, because she talked about these things to me all day, all the time. Mentioned exact figures, specific details from reports. Why would she talk about something that did not exist?

I went over the the next desk and turned on that computer as well – same files on the desktop. They turned up empty as well. I could not understand it. Had a virus somehow deleted everything and nobody knew about it? What were they doing all day if not working in these files? What was their real purpose in this office, in this room?

The realization came with an odd sense of calm, as I looked over to my own desk, the only one with files filled up with information, dates, clients that probably did not even exist.

 _They are here to watch you._

* * *

I don't think he expected the call at all, since i had ignored every single one he had made to me for a month. But it didn't matter- all that mattered was that he was the only person now that I could trust.

I was a little surprised however at how awake he sounded, despite how late it must have been for him when I called.

"Rebecca? Oh thank goodness. I thought they had-" he started, sounding upset, but there wasn't enough time for that.

"Carlisle. Tell me why I should leave. I want to hear it." I said, and there was a pause before he replied.

"I fear that you will not believe me. "

"I will believe anything at this point. I think they've been pretending for me all along and I have no idea why. "

"But you believe me when I say that you are in trouble?" he asked and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yes. But that's not the whole story, not even a glimpse. Am I right?"

"I see. You want proof. "

The line went completely silent for a moment, but was loud for all that was not said. I could hear him sigh, his voice tired and completely different – almost elderly.

"Check the quarry."

"What?"

"Go look. You'll find enough there to know what you have to do. I'm...I'm sorry for putting you through this."

He hung up on me after that, unexpectedly. The phone screen went dark, just like the sky outside that was darker, the cicadas singing in the grass. There was no stars that night.

* * *

I could not wait until morning. It had to be now or I'd try to forget. Try to pretend that everything was fine for the sake of keeping something. Trying to keep him.

I had been to the quarry many times this summer and never seen anything out of the ordinary. I doubted at first that what Carlisle had said was true, but it was the way he had said it that made me go. He had sounded so weary, so tired. Like telling me was aging him, revealing something that he'd try to forget himself. I had to bring a flashlight, since it was one of those nights when not even the moon was shining down.

Instead of jogging, I walked there. It took a long time – maybe longer than it should have. When I got there I lingered by the trees, taking my time. It's funny, but now that I am here – suddenly there is hesitation. I want to run back and never think about this again. I stand there and imagine – waiting for Aro to get back, maybe surprise him by making him dinner for the first time. I know he doesn't eat much, but I think he would eat what I cooked. And maybe, after some time has passed – I can move into his apartment. Give it a bit of life, personality.

He says he likes me, maybe even loves me. Well, he hasn't said it yet – but I know he does. It's carved into him, this love. It's so strong and constant that it scares me a little – but I think I might love him back.

But I don't want to be tricked. Not again.

With that in mind I approach the quarry, sliding down the side carefully, dry sand falling between my fingers. It leaves scuff marks on my palms that sting, but I don't pay it any mind. The quarry is filled with garbage from construction sites, huge piles of dug up dirt and rocks. I trek through it for awhile, my flashlight as a compass. I wonder what I could possibly find here that would give me answers.

Then I remember the cat, who was partly buried under one of those heavy rocks.

I swallow thickly and rub at my arms, even though its not cold at all. My flashlight keeps on looking, wildly flickering this way and that over the great expanse, over the mountains upon mountains of crap – abandoned and carelessly tossed. I won't find anything here. I look down and notice that my leg is scraped up now from coming in contact with some sharp metal bars to the right.

And it is then that I spot an old watch – still ticking. It's the kind of thing you buy from a street vendor – made to look like a rolex but obviously not. When I bend over to pick it up, I see something grey and pink-looking, shoved between two rocks. I shine my flashlight at it and realize that it is a human finger.

I lower my flashlight and pick up the rock there, and when I lift it, more is revealed. The finger is now a hand, then when I lift up yet another rock, a whole arm. I continue lifting rocks until I see a face. While I am doing this, nothing is happening inside me. I know that the person is dead, too much….skin is missing. And I don't know about the rest of her, the parts that I cannot see.

I dont start shaking until I see that her scalp has been singed off.


	31. Chapter 31

_author's note: ...and now back to your favorite sit-com, Rebecca's journey into insanity! All jokes aside, thank you for the lovely reviews!_

* * *

My leg wouldn't stop shaking. I don't know why. Somehow I managed to get away from the body and the quarry, but not like a human being. I think I crawled back up, on my hands and knees in a sort of frenzy.

When I got to the trees I couldn't take it anymore. I think I screamed, and somehow it turned into a cough, the contents of my stomach coming up as I leaned against a dead tree, my head bowed to the ground.

For a moment I pretended. That this was not happening to me, but somebody else. Someone who maybe deserved it. But a glance down into the quarry was all it took to reaffirm that this was no dream, not even a nightmare.

The sky was getting brighter, the sun just coming up over the horizon. Red and purple hues in the sky, the tops of the trees still black and spider-like in the half-dark. And the body, the woman was looking up at the sky, the tint of her skin the same as the rocks and metal around her.

As I looked down at her, I sensed a familiar part of me ripped and tore. The same part that had kept me rational and sane throughout my life. It had been very small to begin with.

Now I wasn't sure if it was still there at all.

* * *

Somehow I made my way back to the apartment. It was early morning still, and I saw no one on my way there. There was a rough sketch in my head of what I should do next – call the police, pack my bag and leave the country. That was what my instincts were all screaming at me to do.

And maybe I would have done all those things if I wasn't me.

Instead I stopped halfway in the street and stared at the cobblestones at my feet – rough red skin and scratches on my legs still visible, as I crossed my arms. Tucked my head down and closed my eyes tightly, wavering on the spot like I was about to faint. When I opened my eyes I was looking through a curtain of my own hair – the red color of it passing over my eyes like a lens.

I turned on the spot and stared in the other direction as something consumed me. It wasn't the need to know, or even the need to prove that any of this was real – because some part of me already knew the answer to that. Why does a moth jump into the flame when it knows it will burn?

 _Don't._

As if someone was chasing me, I began to run.

* * *

I reached the wall shortly after. I didn't remember exactly where the switch was, but it did not take long before my hand found a dip in the wall, pushing it back. I heard a clicking sound, and then a door slid open slowly that had been hidden from view, made to look as part of the stone wall as possible. It was dark on the other side, and a flight of stairs that led down, down, down.

Without looking back, I stepped inside. I heard the door close behind me, but paid it no mind. I saw some light coming from the bottom of the stairs, so I did not trip or fall as I walked down.

It was somewhat of a surprise to me when I reached the bottom, and stepped into the place from my dreams. It was the same kind of balcony that overlooked the throne room. It was more brightly lit than I recalled, but just like in the dream, I was not alone down there.

There was no fire or screaming. It was just a small group of people, most of which I already knew.

"Helen?" I heard myself ask, my voice raspy, uncertain.

She was standing to the side, next to two other secretaries I recognized. It was the first time that she didn't greet me with a smile. Instead she was looking down, biting her lip like she had done something wrong.

Then someone in the cavernous room started clapping. It was coming from downstairs. I jogged over to the railing and looked down – and to my horror I discovered that the room below was filled with people. And they were smiling up at me, all of them. They were all so still, so much like statues – only their eyes their red eyes looked alive.

The one who was clapping was Aro.

"So you finally made it! I knew you would."

When I only stared and said nothing, he continued. Clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in front of his throne. There was something….not right about his eyes. They were so hard, so angry.

"I know its hard, remembering the past. But you've been doing so well – you're almost there now." he continued in the same conversational, happy tone of voice.

"Almost where?" I whispered, hugging my arms and starting to back away. He was silent for a moment and simply stared at me with those eyes of his – and it was not the color for once that truly scared me.

His voice was completely flat, devoid of emotion as he turned to a man standing next to him.

"Bring her down."

* * *

I did not resist being led down to the room, since my legs were shaking so badly anyway. I kept turning my head, looking at the people all around me – who were whispering, smiling. They all had that pale white skin – all of them. The same red eyes as well. I was thinking cult and ritual sacrifice as I was being led up to the thrones. Was that my fate?

With the anger still left in me, I managed to face them all – despite the shaky mess that I still was. I hadn't stopped since I found the body last night. I had been awake for a long time now. I wondered if I would ever manage to.

But all those thoughts disappeared when I realized that Aro was standing barely two feet away from me, and I flinched as I met his gaze. He had never looked at me like that before. Like I was not a person at all, but something he could squash under his shoe if he wanted to.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I started speaking in italian to him. Maybe in strange hope that nobody in the room would follow our conversation.

"che cosa sta succedendo?" I asked, my voice very quiet. He blinked, and his face transformed from hard and scary to that version of him that I knew – when his eyes would go soft and fond, and his smile would actually look genuine. He stepped forward, bringing his hand up to my hair – but before he could touch me I retreated, reflexively. Like an animal that has been taught that affection always comes at a price of something worse.

Something hurt passed through his expression for a brief moment before he smiled again, but less genuine and more with his teeth. He turned around and walked back to his throne and sat down.

"I wasn't sure for a long time that you were actually her. But when I found you with that little music box, I knew." he said, his hands drumming along the arms of the throne playfully, methodically. Tears were welling up in my eyes without reason, and for no reason at all I felt ashamed. Cornered.

"I don't know what you are talking about." I gasped out.

"Think about it Rebecca. Why do you have so many headaches? Hmm? And all those strange dreams you've been having. What do you think they mean?" It was unfair of him to ask these things. Like it was some kind of test. Like it could be just that easy to answer them. Without meaning to I felt my legs give way as I slid down to the floor. Something big was going to happen and I wasn't ready to face it. It was catching up to me now and there was nowhere to run.

"But you said that it wasn't-that it wasn't-I can't do this. I can't." I hid my face in my hands. I heard fast foot steps and he was there, prying my hands away with a strength that felt unnatural, not human at all.

 _He is not human._

His face was so close but I felt little comfort, his hands covering my wrists that refused to stop shaking. He gently squeezed them as he talked, his voice calm, reasonable. But there was something else hidden behind all of this, this calm demeanor, everything about him that was cold – there was an urgency, something restless and beyond all patience.

"Yes. Yes you can. I know, it hurts but you have to do it."

I shook my head several times. But he was right – there was something there, something waiting for me – I only felt it when I was with him, but it was growing stronger and stronger. This feeling that I had known him before, this memory of myself but not myself at all. But it was too much, too much.

"I don't want to." I moaned, like a child who realizes she is being punished too late for it to stop. Even though my vision was blurry from tears, the fever in his eyes was still evident as he spoke, his voice deeper and almost hypnotic.

"Please Rebecca, you have to remember. Close your eyes, listen to my voice. I will tell you a story."

"What kind of story?"

"The kind that does not have a happy ending."


	32. The Past - part I

The memories, when they come back, are not fully formed at all. They come flashing through her head like pictures saved from a fire, pages ripped from a much thicker novel – but what she can see is enough. More than enough.

* * *

 _People are dressed differently and it is hot. Buildings made of white marble tower over her and she is just a child. Taken from somewhere, made to stand in front of people who stare and point. They call her a savage. They laugh._

 _But she doesn't understand them anyway, not yet._

 _There is always sand beneath her feet. It is her one playmate, where she learns how to read and write. Her name is a number, nothing more. She writes it in the sand until she has learnt it by heart. A slave is not given the luxury of anything else._

* * *

 _A man with hard, black eyes comes by her cell one day. He has watched her interact with the other children. Has isolated her from the others – because she looks different, acts different. Wants to see how far he can take it, if he can mold her._

 _Exotic things are always a novelty, he says._

* * *

 _Female gladiators are far and few in-between, for many reasons. But her trainer believes that she is meant for this, and this alone._

 _It makes no difference to her._

* * *

 _They beat her regularly to make sure that she stays obedient. It does not matter how many promises she makes, talking just makes everything worse. So she stops doing that altogether. Not even to the comrades she has – might have to kill them soon in the arena anyway. Blood makes her happier, satisfies her in ways that nothing else will._

* * *

 _Fighting and killing is difficult, at first._

 _But over time, she just focuses on the pattern the blood makes as it falls and the people cheering. Her own breathing like an inferno that rises above everything else, surviving is what she has been taught to do. Nobody asked her if she ever wanted to._

* * *

 _Nobody has ever laughed in the face of the emperor before. Never a gladiator, let alone a female one._

 _But she does, a mad, cackling sound that escapes her dry lips after he has accidentally tripped over his own mantel._

 _He is young, this emperor. She remembers the other one before him, who was nothing more than skin and bones. This one has a reputation already – for dancing and singing while the city burns._

 _When he approaches her in the arena, under the bright hot sunlight, every bit as haughty and royal as an emperor should be and yet not -his dark eyes wild and anxious, she almost forgets to lower her gaze to the ground._

 _She hears him swallow, hears him breathing._

 _"There shall be a punishment for this. But since you seem to be a favorite amongst the audience, your life will be spared. But you will know pain before the day is through."_

 _She looks up too soon and he is still there, looking directly at her. But instead of looking angry, like she expects he looks...captivated._

* * *

 _She is whipped as a punishment, worse than she has been in years. Cannot enter the arena for several weeks, at most._

 _Afterwards, she is allowed to tend to the swelling wounds at her back. She is given a basin filled with clean water and some soap, which burns her back. Her naked skin is covered with freckles._

 _And suddenly, she is not alone in her cell anymore._

 _The emperor is standing in the doorway, watching her bathe. It is not uncommon for the more wealthy and rich to come here and have their pick of the women – and even the men. It is what they do. She is not surprised to see him, but he seems uncomfortable._

 _When he takes the sponge from her hands and gently squeezes it against the broken skin, she closes her eyes and shudder._

* * *

 _After that he comes to see her. Every day._

 _But he does not come to seek pleasure from her body. He stays five feet away at all times, and lowers his gaze on more than one occasion, as if he is the slave. It is most unusual. He is not at all what she expected. He is shy and weak, and there is always dark smudges under his eyes – as if he never sleeps properly._

 _What he does do is talk. A lot._

* * *

 _"Have you ever heard that song? I know that many prefer it over Accolytes work, but not I. Perhaps you haven't been able to."_

 _Still, she refuses to speak to anyone. But this has not deterred him at all. Instead he waits each time, as if she might – the silence speaking for itself._

 _"I hope one day that everyone will be able to listen to music when they want. The arts are so important, don't you agree?"_

 _In liue of a verbal answer, she nods at him slowly while wondering, thinking – why speak to me at all? Do you not have any other friends? But the answer is already there in his eyes – the way they jump at every passing shadow. Emperors usually grow paranoid after awhile. Sometimes he laughs awkwardly at the things he says, one hand tugging at his dark brown curls on his head bashfully._

 _In spite of herself, a strange fondness grows for this man._

* * *

 _Then one day, everything changes._

 _"Would you like to come and visit me, sometime?"_

 _She stops drawing swirls in the sand and looks up at him with a startled look. Worry and fear gnawing at her stomach. He fails to notice it, mistaking her look for excitement. He seizes on it like a starving animal – but starving for what, she cannot understand._

 _"There is so much there that I'd like to show you! Yes, please say you want to come!"_

 _With some hesitation, she nods._


	33. The Past - part II

_Author's note: Soooo all you history buffs out there will probably HATE me for this, but honestly, after seeing that BBC documentary with michael sheen as Nero, can you blame me? Also take comfort that all of this is 100% fiction - except maybe for the part about using people as human torches. That is an actual thing that people think Nero did._

* * *

 _She was escorted to the palace when he wasn't there. It was much bigger than she had imagined. There were wealthy people gathered in the throne room, and servants dressed all in white attended to their every whim._

 _Everything looked so clean and bright that it seemed almost unreal. There were plates upon plates of fresh fruit laid out in big bowls and salted meat for guests to eat._

 _And in a corner of the room, a black iron cage – big enough to fit a small pig._

* * *

 _She is waiting for him in the garden – where they brought her, but she doesn't dare touch anything or move to explore. That is not why she is here. She is not a guest._

 _And the guards are watching._

 _When he does come, she feels relieved and apprehensive all at once._

* * *

 _There is an expectation that he will want to do more than just talk this time. But yet again, he defies her expectations._

 _Instead of looking into his eyes, she focuses on his hands. They look more like the hands of an artist than that of a ruler._

 _"Have you ever tried these peaches? They are only ripe in the spring you see."_

 _They wander through his large garden, and he does not even look to see if she is going to run away (but there is nowhere to run to)._

 _When he hands her the sunset-colored fruit, their hands touch and she suppresses the urge to make excuses and beg for mercy. It is not what she is feeling, but apologizing is a slave's religion. His eyes flicker strangely when she says nothing about it, something that hints at more._

 _He seems not so shy suddenly, as he tilts his head and looks at her like he'd like to devour every inch of her. But the look is soon gone, replaced by a good-natured smile._

 _"You are different from the others."_

* * *

 _She still fights in the arena, just not as much. The rest of her time is spent at the palace. They are never seen together by the others, only the guards know this secret._

 _But he still hasn't touched her – other than to treat her wounds, and she cannot hold in the question any longer. It is the first time she has ever spoken to him. The garden is a strange reflection of his insides – the glimpses of something bigger under the surface. The flowers have started to wilt in her eyes, despite it being the height of summer._

 _"Why?"she asks, a simple question. And again, he looks at her like an equal. Like she has something that he's desperate to have._

 _"Because I need someone who understands."_

 _She didn't know what he meant by that, not at first._

* * *

 _He always treated her well, when they were together. Always the same gentleness that took her off guard every single time. The same light shining in his pale green eyes, a contrast to her own dark – almost black ones._

 _Shy still, and always walking in her shadow rather than the other way around – as if she is there to protect him. Sometimes he would even ask her, beg her._

 _"You'll always be here? Won't you?" in that tone that is bordering on desperation, like the thought of her not being there is unthinkable._

 _She never replies, just smiles reassuringly. And usually, that is enough._

 _The fact that she never spoke to him at all did not seem to occur to him. He had a way of knowing her thoughts anyway – or maybe she was just that plain to read._

 _He even treated her well the first time she watched him kill somebody._

* * *

 _They always did this._

 _Pretending to sneak off, even though there were guards at every corner of the palace. Even though she was a slave and he the emperor – he had a way of making her forget all that. Like everything was just a game._

 _He would show her things – beautiful places, hidden caves in the mountains and tell tales of the gods that were special, forbidden. He was always so happy then, unlike when she first had met him in her cell. She thought it meant something._

 _But that time was different._

 _She had her own room in the palace by then, and would stay the night on occasion. The only difference was that her room had bars on the windows. But still, he had never come into that room to take something from her that she was not willing to give._

 _So it surprised her when she woke that night to discover him standing at the foot of her bed – staring at the floor with a strange and intense look. When he saw that she was awake, he froze – as if it was not his plan to wake her up. His face had lost all light, all hope._

 _"It didn't work, after all."he said, voice flat and emotionless._

 _Then he left the room without another word._

* * *

 _It was during an evening of festivities at the palace. Everything had been going well and she had not detected any of that strange, black mood from the night before. As a matter of fact, he acted like it had never happened at all._

 _She was nervous about being around other people. But he insisted on her being there._

 _"I want you to see something, later." he would whisper, eyes glinting with something happy and manic, and she didn't like it. But his hand was interlaced with hers, among all these people, and she thought that he loved her._

 _There was entertainment – singing and dancing, a couple of performers doing tricks. And then lastly, a thin, starved looking slave was led in._

 _And as he stood up, the music fell silent._

 _Nero may lead a life surrounded by beauty, but this is the exception. And she realizes, that behind his beautiful appearance, and appealing shy half-smiles, is a completely different person. The sound of bones breaking can be surprisingly loud, and screams can be nothing but silence._

 _The two slaves share a look, right before his head caves in against the marble floor._

 _That night, the cage is not gaping empty._

* * *

 _"Just because I have never participated in the games of the arena, does not mean that I do not lack the talent."_

 _It is not the act itself that scars her, imprinting on her memory forever. It is with the childish, careless joy he breaks apart the mans face by tearing it asunder from the mouth – opening it wide, then wider, and wider – until the sides start to crack and a horrible, white line of fat and muscle peaks through. Finally parting all along the sides like the peel of a fruit, a wet and ripping sound – revealing a tongue lashing at all angles desperately for purchase, the eyes of the man going back into his head._

* * *

 _"We're just the same." he says under the stars later that night, his hand covering hers, only his still has traces of crimson underneath the fingernails._

 _She sighs and looks away._

* * *

 _It takes awhile for her to say anything. Because she has no idea what he will do._

* * *

 _His obsession with the dark is starting to scare her. She had heard rumours before, of other rulers before him. She has seen brutality, all kinds of it. Nothing can face her, or even shock her at all. But the difference with him is that he is not even aware, half the time._

 _Sometimes she catches him looking haunted, looking past his shoulder at empty spaces like something – or someone, is hunting him. Interlaces their hands and squeezes just a little too hard._

 _She does her best to keep him happy._

 _Not because she has to, but because she loves him._

* * *

 _Finally, she can't take it anymore. When he hands her an instrument for whipping horses intent on using it for a misbehaving servant, already dripping with blood and pus – she recoils from his grip and snarls._

 _"I said NO!"_

 _the echo is a roar. His smile is gone in the blink of an eye – the mad laughter becoming a strange labored breathing as his pale eyes stare at her, not blinking. There are red flecks across his face, and one right underneath his right eye._

 _"Enough, he's had enough now." she tries in a calmer tone of voice._

 _"I thought we were having fun."_

 _"No. Not like that – not like this."_

 _She knows that the slap is coming, but does not lean her head away or tries to minimize the blow. He regrets it immediately afterwards, by what she can see – staring at his hand like it does not belong to him._

 _Still, she is punished._

* * *

 _The isolation could go on for months, if he was really angry._

 _She can hear peoples jaws cracking. Through the walls._

 _Does he want her to hear it?_

* * *

 _Afterwards, she holds him close and feel him shiver like a leaf. He is sad – does not know why he does things like that. Why he needs it so badly. He tells her that he can't stand it. The fever that controls his mind, the haze of madness that is always there. They are the shadows always watching him._

 _In harsh whispers late at night, he tells her, but it still sounds like a question._

 _"You'll always be here. You won't leave me."_

 _It is a sickness to love someone who treats you this way. She knows it, but what then, is the alternative? She is not ready to die._

* * *

 _He is a magician. He has made everyone she knows disappear. The people she grew up with, old sparring partners from the arena has gone missing, or been publicly tortured to death. Some of them he makes her watch as they burn, as he lights their shaved heads on fire, covered in tar. He gives them away, like party favors._

 _Beautiful, he says. He says the same thing about her hair, about her freckles._

 _The difference between them is that while she only kills to survive, he does it for sport._

* * *

 _She leaves huge, angry welts on his chest, his face bruised red and purple from when she punches him. But he likes it, laughs when she is allowed to hurt him this way. She's crying and he's pulling her into his lap on the floor, holding her close._

 _He never begs her forgiveness for anything, but sometimes she can see it – below everything terrible, a good part of him knows just how bad it is._

* * *

 _Her death finally comes- just a few months before his own._

 _The people have begun to turn love into hate, and the warm regard they once held is now vanished, into the thin morning fog. They want the emperor erased._

 _They are in the summer house when it happens. It is a beautiful day._

 _She is out in the field alongside it, bending down to pick grapes hanging from the vines. When she sees the guards sneaking up towards the house, she knows why they have come. And yet, she only stands there and watch them creep closer, and closer. Ignoring her, only interested in one target._

 _Feels nothing but calm as she knows what is about to happen. There is even a bit of joy at the prospect. There is no other way this could end._

 _Why then, does she drop her basket to the ground and runs to the house?_

* * *

 _She is dying and she is a fool. That much is true._

 _But the emperor still lives, though his face has blood on it – not his._

 _There is a knife right below her heart, only the hilt sticking out. But the culprits are now gone. That is good enough._

 _The emperor himself is cradling her in his arms, then carrying her out into the sunlight, as if that is going to help. He's staggering though, knowing that whatever comes now is futile. Even though she is still there, she won't be for much longer._

 _She doesn't want his tears. He is too much of a monster to cry._

 _"You can't go. You can't leave!"he cries, loud enough to make the crows in the field take off. That makes her laugh, even though she is in no condition to laugh. But tears are in her eyes too._

 _"I wish you could stop me." she says, a gurgled laugh escaping her throat before going abruptly silent._


	34. Chapter 34

_Author's note: Ah this chapter took foreeeverrrrrr I'm sorry! I got a major cold, had to finish a school assignment that was overdue and just..didn't...feel this chapter y'know? My inner Aro wasn't talking. He was having a diva moment._

* * *

There is a strange humming in my ears.

I can't see anything.

I don't want to see anymore.

Conversations are happening around me – angry, loud words shouted back and forth.

I hear them, but I can't see them. I see nothing now. I am a ghost in this place, in this life.

A life that is not even mine.

" _Aro, your game have gone on long enough. Dispense of it, now."_

" _Marcus is right. The fun part is over. What more can you possibly do with her?"_

" _Look, she's bleeding."_

" _Will someone please make her stop screaming?"_

And just like that, I find that this is not a dream – I am lying on the floor curled up into a ball with my hands covering my ears – but there are no air sirens, no earthquakes. Just me, screaming. I find that no matter how hard I try, I cannot make myself stop.

Eventually, though, someone makes sure that I do. Someone hits me in the head, and as my head bounces towards the floor, I black out.

* * *

I have a dream of wandering through my bedroom, back home in Forks. It feels so real, so familiar. It looks just like I left it.

Someone is looming in the doorway, but it's not my dad or Lana. It's my mother.

She's clutching one of my favorite shirts in her arms, folded and clean. She's older than I remember, her eyes wiser, knowing. She does not resemble the woman that left me so many years ago.

"It's funny, the rain." she says, looking out the window at the clear skies and I frown.

"The weather is fine mom." I say, shaking my head. But she's still looking, and as I turn to check again, dark clouds are gathering outside. The sky goes completely black, and everything – everything, fades away.

Then it is just our voices left. Hers and mine.

"What will I do when you go?" I ask.

She sighs heavily, her voice watery and sad.

"Don't be so kind, my dear. Never be too kind."

* * *

When I wake up, I am not sure if it's still a dream at first. My surroundings have changed.

I am lying against something cold, hard. Gingerly I sit up – I am in a very dark room with no windows. Stone walls, and concrete floor. A wall with thick, heavy bars on them. I am in a prison cell. But where I don't know.

 _It's still the same._ A voice whispers in my ear, a new voice. Like an old instrument being played on for the first time in years. I know who she is.

I stand up and walk over to the bars and press the left side of my face against it. It's cool and soothing against the large bruise on my skull and I close my eyes with temporary bliss.

Then I feel that voice becoming more than just a voice. I realize that she and I are the same. And I think about what I was forced to see, to remember.

An atom can split itself to infinity. I wonder if the brain can do something similar. I stare at my skin for so long that my eyes burn. I am trying to find familiar patterns – old scars. I am trying to see traces of blood. I check under my fingernails for sand.

The hair – the only thing that is exactly the same.

Even though this girl has a name, I am still just a number. I can never forget that.

But it is time for that to stop.

I am tucked against the cold floor, asleep when he enters the cell. But I wake up without him needing to speak. There was always a certain energy about him that made my skin prickle.

"Rebecca? Are you alright? Your head-."

For a moment I don't even know who he's talking about. Perhaps a day has passed since I last saw him, but in reality, it is far longer than that. I realize now, that in this moment, I am meeting him again for the first time. But even though he looks different, talks different – the madness that had only just started then has by now grown into its own thing. Other than that, nothing has changed.

He looks at me with such concern, hands outstretched hesitantly towards me. A bit ironic, since he is the one that put me in this cell. I glance down at his hands and only feel cold. Distant.

"Do not call me that." I say, to which he flinches, looks surprised. He blinks several times, looks away with growing uncertainty.

"I never meant for it to be like this. That was why I waited to tell you."

It really doesn't matter what it is. But one way or another, this is what Rebecca fought for. What she yearned for. I owe her that much.

"Tell me what?" I ask, my voice flat and almost unrecognizable.

"The reason why I'm still here. "

"Then tell me _now_. "

And it is when I say this that he finally seems to realize what has happened. The false pretenses and the lies that he's been telling me are dropped, and I can see a faintly familiar gesture in his hands – his gestures always were theatrical.

And then his laugh. It used to be warm and just so...happy. But now it is a chilling, jarring sound. It didn't even sound human. He laughs long and hard at my words, like he really finds it all so amusing.

Then abruptly as it began, the laughter stops. Some of his dark hair falls across his face and shields some of his pale features, his eyes in particular going an almost dark burgundy color in the sparingly lit cell. He does not look at me as he talks, but stares intently at the stone floor, as if the answers are there for all to see.

"It's really quite amusing. They foretold that I would find a way to come back, even in death. Of course I did not believe it at the time. But then, shortly after my sacrifice – a woman found me. Drank my blood. It made her strong. And after a day or two, I was stronger too. Just like how I always wanted to be, in life. Powerful, unstoppable..."

I shake my head and interrupt him.

"That was always the problem. You were sick even before this happened." I say to the wall, not caring any longer what he will do if I make him mad. I want that to happen. But he continues talking like he never stopped to begin with.

"I want you to be with me, Rebecca. "

I finally face him, even though the mere sight of him now makes me sick.

"That's not my name. I don't even have one." I say, some of my calm composure cracking as I advance towards him, like I could actually physically hurt him. He only looks at me with hooded, calculating eyes, revealing nothing. We are quiet then for some time, just staring each other down.

"You know what will happen if you refuse." he finally says.

"Let me guess, you'll either kill me or torture me right?" I ask, letting out an entirely humorless laugh. His methods are still the same. When he doesn't get what he wants, he will just take it by force. He can do either as far as I'm concerned – as long as I can finally be free of him. I'd rather die than be his slave once more.

"No. I could never do that to you. Still so fragile, my Rebecca. You think you know me so well, but you forget entirely, that I know you too."

And with that, he quietly exits the cell once more, locking it soundly behind him and leaves without looking back.


	35. Chapter 35

_Author's note: I'm like a shining star, I've come so far - can't go back to where I used to beeeee - every turn a surprise! :D That song pretty much sums up where this story is right now. Welp._

* * *

It didn't take long before my body surrendered to the exhaustion that I felt. The next time I awoke, I was unsure whether it was a new day or not – but there was now a tray of food right by the bars.

But there was no way of knowing the time, or even the date. There were no windows here either that could show a glimpse of daylight.

It was a tactic I was familiar with. To break someone down, this is where you start. But I was already broken, so it probably didn't matter anyway.

But I stayed away from the food – but made sure to drink the water. They had given me a canister full of it, along with a plastic cup. When I had done that, I examined the cell further – looking for weaknesses in the walls, loose stones.

I might be broken, but I had made up my mind about one thing. I had to somehow escape this place, alive or not. My fingernails got scraped and cut on the stones, but I didn't pay it any mind – not until I heard a voice speak through the walls.

"I recognize that scent..."

My hands stilled on the wall, almost damp like the earth. I dimly recognized it, but couldn't quite place who it was. But it was safe to assume that he was a prisoner here, like me.

"There is nothing particular about it." I said, and continued to prod and pull – but so far I hadn't found any stones that were loose.

"You're that girl. Yes, I almost had a taste of you." The voice said, clearly a man, and it was only now that I realized that it sounded pained, wheezing. As if talking was a huge effort on his part. I frowned, and put my head closer to the wall.

"Who are you?"

"Nathaniel."

And just like that, a stone that I had not yet checked flew out of the wall like it had been kicked from the other side. There was now a gaping hole there, allowing me to look into the next cell.

* * *

I was cautious at first – the things I knew now about Aro and the others here were going to make things difficult overall.

They were all, somehow, not living – and yet more alive than any human creature. Stronger than I could ever be, and infinitely more dangerous. But I told myself at this point, there was little to lose by talking to a cellmate, no matter what he'd done in the past – we were stuck in the same place.

Leaning down to the hole, I peeked through it expecting to see fangs and red eyes. Instead I saw a foot with dried blood on it, carefully moving around, shivering slightly.

"Why are you down here?" I asked, shifting on the floor to get more comfortable. There was a pause, a slight gasp from the other side and then -

"I was punished. I had made one mistake too many."

"The Volturi?"

"Yes." he said, his voice heavy and resigned. We were both quiet then for a moment – but I could hear him moving around in the other cell restlessly. But something was obviously very wrong with him, because his breathing was so loud and erratic, mingled together with several gasps and strange gurgling noises.

"If you try to escape on your own, they'll kill you." he said, and I resisted rolling my eyes at this obvious statement.

"I know that." I muttered.

"And this does not deter you?" he asked, sounding somewhat surprised. I lowered my head to the hole again so that my reply would come through loud and clear.

"Not in the slightest." I growled. He was quiet again for awhile, the rustling of old chains as he moved around.

"Then you'll need...someone to help you."

"And what makes you think I'd trust you?" I asked, more out of curiosity than actual concern. But he sounded very solemn as he replied.

"I can make you a promise. That if we help each other get out of here, I'll make sure nobody lays a finger on you. Trust me or not – it's your choice. "


	36. Chapter 36

_Author's note: Sorry for the super-short chapter, been really busy with finals and whatnot. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

Truthfully, it was more complicated involving someone else. But given the situation, if I wanted to make it out in one piece I had not much choice in the matter.

They were coming to check in on me now about three times each day. I hadn't seen Aro since that first day – and that was now a week ago. Instead, people in long robes came in and gave me food, looked me over to see that I hadn't hurt myself in some way. Like I was some kind of mental patient. I don't know what they were planning for me, but each day that passed like this made me more and more restless. I wondered if this was what he wanted – to make me somehow desperate enough to agree to his demands. Not seeing daylight for days really messes with your head in ways you can't imagine.

Rebecca couldn't have handled it. But I'm not sure that I am her anymore.

* * *

One day, a young woman is the one to leave me food and water – and I notice something familiar about her hair – coiffed and perfect, her dark brown eyes cast down, not looking me in the eye. I recognize her in a split second –and somehow, my hand latches onto her wrist and I pull it through the bars. Helen lifts her head and looks at me with wide, fearful eyes. She gasps and calls for the guards, but I won't let go of her wrist, my eyes burning into hers. This is the woman that I thought was my friend.

"Is this what you wanted?" the question comes out of my mouth and I smile, but it is hard and without feeling. Her wrist is bruising now, only getting worse when she tries to pull away. I tighten my hands around it.

"Please! Rebecca I had no idea what they were going to do – I didn't have a choice!" she screams, her eyes pleading with me to let her go. I'm filthy and covered in patches of dirt from the floor, and it makes my hands near black. She doesn't look like a friend anymore.

"Is it?" I whisper, but I am no longer looking at her face, but her arm. The urge to hurt her overwhelms me.

Breaking an arm is nothing like you see in the movies. You have to bend it in the most unnatural angle you can think of, then further, and further until you hear that telltale snap. But the satisfaction when you get it right is absolute.

* * *

"You've changed so much, and you don't even know it." Nathaniel rasps through the wall. I don't know what he means. But since he already started talking, I decide that it's time to start planning our escape.

He knows the layout of the castle more than me, and just where in it these cells are located. And more importantly, how many people we have to get past on our way out.

"There will be...a dozen or more guards. We will have to be quick. But first, you must put me back together."

"What do you mean?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"You will see for yourself. There is a way to get our of that cell and into mine– if you get yourself slick enough, you can squeeze through the bars."

We decide to wait until right after the next time the guards come to check up on us. At first I try by dousing the bars with water from the canister. But it doesn't help much, if at all. All it manages to do is make me very frustrated.

But then I recall what they always say about blood – the only substance more slippery than oil.

Now that I am... _different, older,_ I am much more reluctant to inflict harm upon myself. It's such a bother really – but now it will serve a purpose.

It is quite ironic then, that they have removed all sharp objects from my cell.


	37. Chapter 37

_Author's Note: Hehe, here I am again folks! We are getting SO close to the ending of this thing, I swear. Would you want a sequel to this? Because I had a lot more stuff planned that didn't fit in this story. Anyway, if that is the case, make sure to tell me in the reviews_!

* * *

I scramble around in my cell, looking for anything sharp – small rocks will do just fine.

"It'll never work." Nathaniel rasps through the walls. I scoff, ignoring him.

"Clearly you've done nothing but drink the stuff, not actually used it for practical purposes."

He's quiet then as I continue my search. But I find nothing that can be used to break the skin. I have to employ a more barbaric approach if I want this to work. But before I do, I inspect the clothes I have been wearing, what they gave me to wear. Thick linen pants and a grey sweater. At least I can use something after as a make-shift bandage.

"What are you going to do?" he asks. A strange jumble of emotions hit me right then, and it almost makes my knees buckle. I struggle for breath then, my breathing almost as bad as his. Such a simple question.

Mirrors and mirrors of the same wounds stare back at me – old memories I suppose. It makes the pain of biting into my wrist more bearable, knowing that it's something that isn't new to me.

But the blood is darker than I remember – probably because I am not looking at it under the hot sunlight. Instead it is black like tar with only a hint of red.

I can't let too much of it spill out - just enough to lightly coat my arms and legs. I'm so thin at this point that I'll slip through the bars easily with the help of the slickness of the blood. It takes a bit of pulling and shoving though, and I can feel that, once I'm out, there will be some major bruising later.

But I don't – can't – focus on that anyway. I lean over and rest my hands on my knees and breathe out. I'm dirty, bloody and probably stink by now. But I am out of the cell. I am free.

* * *

When I walk to stand in front of his cell, I finally understand what he meant by "putting me together".

Seeing something like this should have horrified me not too long ago. But now I sputter and laugh, clutching my sides, a hysterical bubble of laughter escapes me before I can stop myself. I don't want to stop.

* * *

He looks like a man and yet not at all. Like a marble statue come to life, then torn apart down the middle – his head the only part that remains intact. Part of the punishment, I suppose. His clothes are ripped and torn as well, and might have looked pretty good once upon a time.

There is no blood, which is a small mercy. I already have so much on my hands, both literary and figuratively. I do not hesitate as I walk into his cell, squeezing through the bars now with practiced ease, though it hurts no less than the first time.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal,I approach Nathaniel – or whats left of him. Some sort of clear liquid oozes out of his torso, and he sighs brokenly. There are a few rats at his feet, sniffing and trying to bite into his skin – of course they can't. His eyes roll around, not really focused on me or at anything at all – the pupils of his red eyes uneven and sick looking. I have stopped laughing now, and strangely, even though he almost hurt me once, I can only feel bad for him now.

I touch the pale skin of his wrist and he flinches violently. It is like looking at a ruined masterpiece, a botecelli angel smashed to pieces – you can only glimpse the beauty of what once was, which is no more. I talk to him in hushed tones, and start to look for a way to break the chains that hold him to each wall.

"Hey hey, it's okay. I am going to fix this..." I whisper, tugging carefully at the chains as I try to look for a lock to pick or a place where I can break the chain.

"How?" He croaks, his eyes trying to close, lids fluttering wildly. He closes his eyes fully, surrendering to the pain probably. I would have.

And yes, our situation is pretty hopeless. Even if we manage to escape from our cells, there will probably be plenty more of these...creatures around. I refuse to think of them as what a little girl like Rebecca would – vampires.

I just focus on what they are capable of – their strength, their speed. Their thirst for violence, no remorse. And there are at least a hundred of them in the castle. And we will have to somehow get away from them all. Far, far away.

But I am not Rebecca anymore. I only wear her skin. Her flesh is now mine.

In a way, even though he got what he wanted, Aro made a mistake when he woke me up. He thinks he knows me so well, but that is a mistake too. He knew a woman with a number as her name, who had no choices in her life, who did what she was told.

I no longer bend to anyones whim or mercy.

* * *

After trying again and again to break his chains in various ways, I realize that there is only so much that my muscles can handle. I sigh and sag against the stone wall in his cell, considering. They will be coming soon to check up on us again. We don't have much time.

I look up at him and consider the length of the chains, the way his body hangs in the air. Maybe I won't have to break them first to fix him. He will have to do that himself.

"Nathaniel? Are you listening to me? I think I know what needs to be done, but you must be prepared. This is going to hurt."

He only gurgles and huffs in reply, and that will have to do. I walk around him until I am standing right behind him. Carefully, I move as to hug him from behind – grabbing each side of his torso and with much effort, I manage to put them together. At first nothing fits, not like the pieces of a puzzle – some time passes in this way when nothing at all happens. It feels horrible, the feel of rough and broken bones jutting out, sharp and painful looking.

But then I hear something loud snap, and I can feel it in his back, a continuous popping. I realize that it must be his bones, knitting back together. Nathaniel makes no sound at first, but then a strange low howl escapes his mouth – but he bites his lip trying to keep quiet.

"I know it hurts, I know. " I murmur, trying to be soothing as I continue lower, doing the same thing with his legs, which make a loud fizzing noises as the ripped parts connect once more. Its almost like listening to a tree falling in reverse. It makes so much more noise than I expected, and for a moment I am afraid that someone will hear this and come investigate.

The only miracle I have experienced so far in Volterra : nobody comes, nobody hears.

* * *

He heals fast. Scary fast.

After ten minutes, his body is whole but he looks like somebody who has just been cut in half, pink and purple scars covering his whole body. After another ten minutes, the scars fade to white lines. And he moves, he blinks and his eyes focus and find me staring at him in the corner.

He looks more alive now than ever, even though he is technically dead. I felt him, he was cold. And his eyes are wide, blinking rapidly. He looks traumatized and scared. Still chained up but body healed, I urge him to try.

"You should be able to break free now right?" I ask. But he blinks at me, looks afraid.

"Would you rather stay here, endure more of this?"

"They could have done worse. I have seen them do worse." he speaks, shuddering as he does. The abuse has taken its toll on him. Afraid to move, afraid to do anything to anger his tormentors.

"I know – but I won't let that happen." And I believe it. He shakes his head at me, still shivering.

"You speak with a lot of confidence for a mortal."

I smile at him and raise my hands, still covered with blood.

"I wear the badges on my skin. You can doubt me if you want, or you can choose to have revenge. "

There are no mirrors down here, but in that moment I don't need one to know that I look insane. But I don't feel like it. Nathaniel looks at the blood on my hands with hunger, overpowering and raw.

"We must get you something nice to eat, as soon as we escape." I hear myself say as I lean back against the wall and watch him, waiting.

Sooner or later, he will give in.

* * *

After he is free from his bonds, we decide on the plan. We sit down on the floor of his cell, close together – to think that just a couple of months ago, he was the enemy.

We already know that it will be futile to try and trick the guards with words. This has to be done as a surprise. But there aren't many scenarios that will get us both out of here alive. Not at the same time, at least. Nathaniel realizes it before I do. I know that he is going to suggest something that I won't like when he hesitates suddenly before he speaks.

"I will have to come back for you. I will bring a friend. Someone who is fast." he says. I say nothing at first, clawing at the stone floor with my nails.

"So you will leave me here then?" I say without looking at him. Prepared to be disappointed, prepared to be abandoned once more. Hesitantly, he touches my shoulder and I don't flinch. Funny, how that always happened with Aro. He lifts up my chin with his other hand, making me look at him.

Now that he is healed, he looks better. Even handsome, maybe. But his right eye looks wrong, too red – perhaps it will always look like that now. He is looking at me for so long that I wonder what he sees, wonder what he is thinking.

"Know this, I will never forget what you have done for me. A mortal, no less." he says, smiling to himself. I shrug and smile myself, but it feels less convincing.

"I never feel like one."

His eyes are dark and intense then suddenly, another truth coming that I don't want to hear.

"That is because he has made you as mad as himself. A crown amongst these stones, among the dirt. But here you are, alive still."

He leans forward and kisses the top of my head. To my surprise, tears well up in my eyes. Even such a small kindness hurts me. He rubs my back gently, like a father – a real father might. He gets up on his feet and flexes his limbs, looking towards the cell door with hope, with meaning.

Before he wrenches the door open and escapes into the night, he looks back.

"Don't be sad, Diana. I will come back for you – I swear it."

"Diana?"

"You said that you don't have a name. But I think you do. A goddess of wild things, that is what you are."


	38. Chapter 38

_Author's note: I don't think I've done this yet even though I've been listening to it since the beginning of writing this story, but if you want to listen to the unofficial "soundtrack" of this fic check out the link in my profile description! :)_

* * *

After he left, I had just enough energy to make it back into my own cell and collapse on the floor from sheer exhaustion. I hadn't eaten well – and the lack of real sunlight was taking its toll on my body, making me weak.

I had lost some blood as well, enough to make me faint. I hated how weak this body was, how frail. As I lie down on my side, barely managing to keep my eyes open, my thoughts stray to him. Always back to him.

Perhaps that is why he did it. Perhaps that's why he became that thing. To avoid this weakness.

It doesn't matter why he did it. That's what so funny – he thinks he has more power like this, strong and immortal. He is so wrong. He's still the same.

But is he though? Is that why there was tears in his eyes when he thought you had died in the pool? Would a cruel man cry like that?

The thought made me uncomfortable. Aro, Nero – both of them were men who would rather perish than show weakness in front of someone else. I had seen that first hand, and how he punished anyone that dared intrude or speak up around him. No remorse for the things he had done, none at all. Even though he had punished me, both knowingly and unknowingly in the past, even now – it was not the same. I knew that. For some reason, he had this fixation with me. An obsession he apparently hadn't let go of ever since I died outside his summer palace, hundreds of years ago.

Was that love? I don't know. Perhaps he was just scared of being alone. Alone to face his own demons in the dark.

I fell asleep to the muffled sounds of air filtering through the walls, and my own erratic breathing.

* * *

There was a terrible noise around me next time I woke up several hours later. I didn't know what time it was, but the floor was no longer as cool as it usually was during the night.

But that didn't matter much – when I opened my eyes I saw that Nathaniels escape had been discovered. The two creatures that had guarded our cells and brought me food were standing next to my cell, yelling at each other in quick italian – too quick for me to translate. But one of them seemed to blame the other for what had happened – pointing at him and hissing.

I moved slightly on the floor and they both quieted instantly, their heads turning in my direction at the same time. Their eyes flickered between me and my bloodied arms for a long moment. Too long for comfort.

I walked on all fours over to the bars, leaning my head casually against them as I stared back, defiantly. Hair fell across my face, flat and matted with dirt – its usual auburn color now almost a dark brown. My hands clutched at the bars, and I smiled.

"I think I did something bad."

* * *

Before Nathaniel had left me, before I broke him out of his cell, he had said some things that I kept holding onto. He confessed a lot to me in that time, unknowingly or not.

 _"The only way you're getting out of here is by doing something unforgivable." He had said, which had made me pause._

 _"So, what's the catch?" I asked._

 _He had laughed, that strange gurgling sound. "Certain death, for one. But that is not even the worst of it. If you do manage to upset the Volturi, the chances are that it will leak. Other covens will hear about it, and maybe even question how they run things. That is the real danger."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"You think that the Volturi are all evil. But they are saints compared to some. Other covens will require tribute, atonement for past mistakes. Volturi may be the most respected coven in the world, but even they bend when people talk. It is actually a festive event – offering a tribute. An act of charity, a show of goodwill."_

* * *

Nathaniel may not ever come back for me. But if he does, he is not going to be able to get me out of here in one piece, no matter how many friends he brings. You do not attack someone on their hometurf – because you are destined to lose.

However, you have a much better fighting chance out in the open. When an attack can come from any direction, at any given time.

The only way I could make my escape out of Volterra would be to leave it by doing something unforgivable. And from the looks on the guards faces when they found me, I guessed I just had.


	39. Chapter 39

_Author's note:_ _Wow you guys, thanks for the reviews I've been getting these last few days - I love that so many of you "get" what this story is about, and how I'm trying to take a different road with the romance aspect than what most twilight fanfics tend to do._

* * *

Though I had no way of knowing for sure, the very air in the castle seemed changed after Nathaniel had escaped. The guards who came and went, occasionally stopped to look at me more closely – with a strange mix of curiosity and disgust. But other than that, no other new development had occurred.

That is, until three days later.

* * *

I awoke in the middle of the night with a start. I was still groggy with sleep as I sat up on the cold floor and looked around, searching for what it was that woke me up. Then I saw his familiar figure in the dark, on the other side of the bars.

Realizing who it was, I breathed out and laid down again – still watching him.

"Let me guess, you are not here to set me free are you?" I asked with a sigh. He was so still, but it was the way a predator gets ready to strike.

"I want to know how." he said slowly. It did not take a genius to understand what he was talking about. But the thing was, his threats were wearing thin.

"Why does that matter at all?" I asked instead and he shifted on his feet in the dark. It had been a long time since I had seen him nervous – or rather, unsettled.

"It matters a great deal. It factors in when they decide what to do with you." he said, not making any further explanation to who "they"were, but since Nathaniel filled me in on what I could expect from now on, it would seem that Aro's will and power over the Volturi only went so far. And I had gone too far.

"And I thought you were in charge of my fate, cruel as it is. "

His red eyes blazed in the dark, his figure very subtly shaking where he stood. His pale hands appeared through the bars, reaching out to me.

"By aiding his escape, you have jeopardized everything. I can no longer protect you. You have to decide, before it is too late. Become like us or die."

"And if I don't?"

"You defy me? You dare..."

I stood up quickly and moved up to the bars, and spit at the ground by his feet.

"I will always defy you. Haven't you learned that by now? There is nothing you can say or do that will ever make me-"

A moment's carelessness with a wild animal can cost you a finger, a drop of blood – or even a disfigured limb. And I had been careless. Before I could blink, Aro gripped my upper arms in a grip that was like a vice, and no matter how I moved I could not break free. He shook me violently, and one hand went up to clamp tightly around my throat. His hand squeezed, effectively choking me. I clawed desperately at his hand, trying in vain to get it off.

All the while he just stared at me, his eyes wild and flickering – as if he could not even see me. I was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Yet he held on tight, refusing to let me go.

"I grow tired of this behavior. How can you say no to me? Why will you not have me? "he asked, his voice high and feverish, like he was speaking more to himself than to me. I began to see spots, and my hands slowed down, still covering his but no longer fighting it. How could I?

He blinked, and released me right before I felt myself losing consciousness. I collapsed to the floor and breathed like a fish on dry land, coughing several times until my breathing became regular again. He was still standing there, staring down at me. The roman empire loomed behind him, engulfed in flames. I could still see it.

"Why?" ha asked quietly. Why indeed. I shook my head at him slowly and coughed again. When I spoke, my voice was raw and tired. I didn't even look at him as I began to speak.

"Because you will never know what it is to love. You say that you love me, and yet you put me in a in here. My life is meaningless to you – if you really cared, then you would have turned me away in the first place. Let me continue on with my life without all these horrible memories of you. But no, you wanted to have me – no matter the cost, no matter the consequences. Just like before, just like always. " I said, sighing. It was quiet then for a moment.

I heard him step closer, his breathing now audible in the room – it sounded agitated and frantic. I dared to look up, and immediately wished I hadn't. He was terrifying when he wanted me, like this. It was impossible to tell by his expression whether he meant to kill me or not. An eerie sort of focus were in his eyes, as he watched me carefully as he spoke.

"You think I will let you go, after all this time? After nearly thousand years of your absence, of trying to remember the scent of your skin, the heat of your breath after it was long gone? I can remember everything else – I drink people and their thoughts like nectar and they stay with me forever. But not you – never you. I had only scraps and fragments – not even the sound of your voice or the memory of your smile. " He stopped suddenly and turned away from me, shoulders shaking and I realized that he was crying – but no tears would come. He gasped and looked back at me with the same intensity as before.

"Whenever I tried to remember you, I saw nothing, heard nothing. Hollow bones and dust. Do you know how happy I was, when I first saw you after all these years of nothing? A monster like me can rarely dream of such a miracle."

My vision was getting blurry and there was a terrible pain in my throat and chest that was not just because he tried to strangle me earlier.

"And do you know how frightened I was, how terrified when I found a charred corpse in the quarry, a married woman dead because of you? It was what I felt every day in your palace, every time I was anywhere near you. Afraid you might kill me at any moment, afraid you might hit me or ask me to torture someone for you. Your punishments, are they love too? Is that what a lover really does?"

We stared at each other then in silence for a long time. A flicker of uncertainty passed over his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He drew back from the bars, his expression unreadable in the dark. His voice had gone back to normal, cold.

"An emperor is allowed to do so many things, because he is emperor. It does not matter if his people call him mad. All of it has purpose. Everything he does is for the good of his people. His gods watch over him. Now I am that god. "

"Then I guess I will have to denounce my faith. My word is still no, Nero. The world has learned, but you still have nothing. "

I could tell that my words had struck a chord. His eyes went wide and some unspeakable emotion flickered in his hellfire eyes. But that was it. He was once again calm, collected. Folded his hands gently in front of him and nodded.

"So be it."

* * *

By dawn the next morning, they finally came for me.

I could feel them coming, there was a new energy in the air that told me that something new was happening. Something different. The two guards from before were gone, and instead I was escorted out of my cell by two women, clad in dark robes and pale dresses underneath. They smiled coldly, led me by the arm out of the dungeon and up another floor.

I was led into a room there that seemed to be some sort of boudoir. There was a ladies dresser by one side of the room, a luxurious closet in the corner and a filled bathtub at its center. The women let me go and stepped back, standing in front of the closed door behind them.

"Bathe and make yourself presentable." one of them ordered, to which I could do nothing but happily obey. I couldn't even remember the last time I had showered, let alone took a bath. There was still caked blood on my skin and under my fingernails. My hair was a complete mess.

Not really giving a damn about modesty or being watched, I took off my clothes and got into the tub. There was some expensive looking soap next to the tub which I picked up and scrubbed myself with, the water soon turning muddy brown and then faintly red. I scrubbed until my skin was pink and raw.

While I was drying myself with a nearby towel, one of the women went over to the closet and picked out some clothes which I would wear. To my dismay, she chose a dress. And not just any dress – white embroidered silk with short flowing sleeves, with thread that looked to be made of real gold. It was the kind of dress that belonged in a church, a sacred place.

And I realized that I was being made up to play the part of the sacrifice – the lamb.

But I was no lamb.

And they did not seem to know that.


	40. Chapter 40

It had started to rain as I was escorted outside. A summer storm, by the looks of it. The sky was a murky orange, the clouds more resembling smoke.

There were not any people around when we got outside – and the square looked strangely eerie without any people there. The women led me through the city, and through its gates to a nearby field. It was a long walk, and even though they never grabbed me, I knew that it was a stupid move to try and run. I had to bide my time.

For some reason I looked around, expecting Nathaniel to come running towards us. But of course he wouldn't risk it. Thinking that there was any chance that he would rescue me at all was stupid to begin with. The hem of my white dress was getting soaked with water and red dirt.

We stood there out in the field for some time. I wondered what we were doing out there until I saw, what I first thought was a car, speeding towards us in the distance. But no car can reach that speed. In only a short moment, the blurring object reached us with a jolt.

It was one of them. They could run that fast, I realized. And with a small shiver of fear, I wondered what else they were capable of that I hadn't yet seen. A man dressed in a dark tailored suit stood before us, built like a bodyguard with short cropped hair. He didn't say anything at first, and he actually looked kind of bored to be there.

Eventually, he turned to one of the women.

"They are expecting you. Everyone has gathered for the ceremony tonight."

"We are humbled by your service." The women replied in union, bowing their heads with respect at the man.

* * *

They had a black car parked down on the road and I was put in the backseat with the two Volturi members as the bodyguard got behind the wheel to drive. I didn't understand why we didn't just go the same way he had come to greet us – but maybe they wanted to be more discreet.

In the car, my hands clasped together in my lap – an unconscious gesture that Rebecca was more used to than me – whatever I am. An amalgamation, twins cut in half.

 _We are praying to god, despite knowing that he will never listen._

That was a truth we were both familiar with.

It was a long drive north – longer than I expected, though I had no idea where we were going. I was afraid to ask, smart enough not to speak. As if silence could somehow make me invisible.

I was not afraid of dying. I'd done it before. But I had a feeling that this time would be different. This time, it would take longer.

* * *

I must have dozed off sometime, because when I snapped out of it and woke up, the sky outside was dark. The road ahead of us was rocky and small, hedged by a lush forest on both sides. I wondered if we were even in italy anymore. The headlights were turned off, and yet nobody in the care seemed to care.

"We will be arriving shortly." the man driving said without moving his eyes from the road, and I realized that they could probably see everything in the dark just fine.

And sure enough, up ahead the road cleared into a valley, and behind that a small mountain covered in lush trees. A medieval looking castle was built into its side, looming ahead of us. We drove up on a gravel driveway that led us right to its entrance.

The castle was even bigger up close – built out of red brick. Parts of it looked demolished, while others looked properly maintained and cared for. It was worlds different from the palace in Volterra, and just by looking at it I felt uneasy. It was too hidden, too secluded. There were no other buildings around for miles it seemed.

One of the volturi women looked me directly in the eye before getting out of the car, her hand on my arm. The look in her eyes was vaguely sympathetic, which surprised me. She spoke in almost a whisper, though I was sure the others could hear her fine.

"It is time to receive your punishment. If you try to run from this place, there won't be an easy death waiting for you."

I had to smile at that.

"Nothing has ever been easy for me."

And with that, I followed them outside and through the large main doors of the castle.

* * *

The air inside was damp and cold, making the skin on my arms prickle.

But it was far from quiet – quite the opposite. From the main entrance, one could hear the sound of many people talking and laughing. There was also the sound of music, but it was a musical instrument that I was unfamiliar with. But the sounds of the people was not normal – it was chaotic, too frantic. I realized that they were cheering for something, or someone.

My muscles itched for a sword, my instincts telling me to turn around and pierce my opponent's torso and cut his throat. His blood spraying, hitting my face and staining my lips. The crowd both enraged and enthralled, wanting more. They always wanted more.

After a few twists and turns in the many hallways of the castle, we arrived at what seemed to be a huge banquet hall. Long tables in the shadows of a balcony overhead, overlooking a part of the room that had been made into some sort of stage. There were so many people, a whole gathering.

But not all of them were dressed like those from the Volturi.

They did not wear robes, or any modern clothing. Instead they wore richly decorated jackets, tunics and long dresses that trailed down to the floor. The women wore several rings on each hand, the jems in their jewlery glittering almost as much as their matching red eyes. It looked like something out of a medieval moved differently as well, their movements dreamy and paid almost no attention I was brought into the room.

I was made to stand in the very back. From there I could see more clearly what was happening on the stage that seemed to be the main source of entertainment.

There was a man there with a table beside him, apparently performing some sort of elaborate card trick that seemed to have everyone in cards were stained a faint coppery color and it didn't take a genius to guess what it was.

"It's all a bit of mockery, you see." The guard next to me suddenly said, making me turn my head in his direction. It was the bodyguard from earlier, though he made no effort to look me in the eye.

"What?" I asked, my voice almost lost in the noise from the crowd around us. But the bodyguard heard me anyway. He nodded towards the stage.

"Everyone can see him, can track the movements of his hands. And so, there is no way we can be fooled. " I frowned as he explained this, not understanding the point.

"Then where's the fun in that?"

"It is more about tradition than fun. And someone always loses."

* * *

From where I was standing I could see where the members from the Volturi were sitting. It was hard not to, since they were the only ones present completely dressed in modern, black clothing. They were sitting down by the long table on the left side of the room, while I was on the right. The candlelight from the table gave their forms no light, just gave their eyes a dull glow as they watched the proceedings on stage with a much more muted enjoyment than everyone else.

Despite not meaning to look if he was there, it didn't take long before I spotted Aro sitting among them. He looked detached and somber like the rest of them. It was as if the man that Rebecca fell in love with was just a pretty disguise, a practiced role he played and this was the reality. A man just as cold as his skin, manipulative to the end. But for him and his kind, there would never be an end.

Finally, the crowd's laughter and cheers subsided as an old man came into the room, led by the hand of someone I vaguely recognized from Volterra – a little girl with pale blonde hair and rigid posture, but she was smiling now towards this old man like he was her grandfather.

He was a short, and walked slowly. He looked more like a ghost than anything else, his hair, skin and fingernails the same milky white color. But there was a sense of purpose to his footsteps, a determination that could not be overlooked. He wore a robe that looked almost as old as himself, the ends that trailed to the floor all frayed and darkened with dirt and dust.

They stopped in front of a high, carved chair that stood in the center of the room, where he finally sat down. He breathed in harshly before he spoke.

"We are honored to have so many guests, once again welcome within these walls." he wheezed, a gnarled hand gesturing to the room around him.

" It brings me great joy to see so many familiar faces, both old and new. But, we must not forget the pivotal reason for why we have gathered tonight. We will dine, and yes, we will drink. But first we must deal with the matter of the offering. Yes, _the sanies deserit."_

For some reason, those words made my skin crawl.

But that was nothing compared to when he turned his head to look directly at me. The floor underneath my feet was too cold. I felt sick to my stomach. It is difficult to describe what I felt. I just knew, without a doubt that this man was pure evil incarnate.


	41. Chapter 41

_Author's note: Ahem, so serious trigger warnings for this chapter as it contains a lot of heavy, dark and disturbing stuff. Themes of rape and sexual assault are also present. I am giving you the next chapter right away, since I'm nice like that and because I had some spare time on my hands._

* * *

There was something so calm, so tranquil in this man's eyes. As if all that surrounded him was part of him, and he knew it – and expected it to stay like that forever.

Suddenly the bodyguard next to me grabbed me by the arm and I had no choice but to be led straight to the large throne the old man sat at. But with every step that brought me closer, the more I felt a growing terror. The crowd around us had grown quiet by this point, only faint whispers could be heard.

I refused to meet his eyes when I stood before him, waiting in silence as he regarded me with a strange smile on his face.

"So this is your failed little project, Aro." He said, then nodding to himself – and without warning, he reached out a thin hand and grabbed one of mine, his nails trailing upwards, inspecting my skin. His hands were so sure, so unwavering and quick – not like an old man at all. I swallowed and continued to look down.

"Yes, I do see why you tried so hard. She is a rare one, indeed. Centuries old blood in someone so young. I thank you for bringing her to me. " he continued, as he continued to touch my skin, the curls in my red hair. His voice was kind and sweet, almost like a suddenly his hands disappeared and he fell quiet. He tutted and the hand on my arm squeezed painfully.

There was movement in the corner of my eye from where the Volturi sat, but I didn't dare turn my head and look.

"Now is that polite? Look at me when I am talking to you, girl."

I finally did so, and I saw then that he was smiling in a knowing way that I didn't like. Like there was something inside me he could see that amused him greatly.

"So this is the one who aided the escape of another vampire? One who thoughtlessly released a monster like us on the world? Have you no shame?"

I kept my mouth shut, but my eyes could not lie.

"Do you know my name?" he asked, and I carefully shook my head no. He sighed and looked away, his eyes thoughtful.

"Not many mortals do. They talk about me in history books, mention my name without knowing the meaning, or who I really was. In Egypt, they wept when I went away. Though so many tragic things happened when I was there."

I made the mistake of turning my head to look. I don't know why, for I had no reason to do that. The vampires all regarded me with either contempt or bored disregard. They had no sympathy for human life, or as I had come to learn, any respect for it. The old man suddenly tutted at me, making me look back at him.

"Ah, so that is the root of the problem. Your disobedience has to be rectified, or else it will only grow with time. Now, kneel."

I was confused by this, but did as he said anyway – I could feel the hand of the bodyguard pressing me down, his hard and unrelenting hand never leaving my shoulder. Long nails tipped my chin upwards, as the old man looked deep into my eyes before drawing back and sighing with something like delight.

"Yes, your eyes carry the blood too. For you, there is no fear of it, is there? No. If you only knew how special that is. Yes, you are special. That is why we have to look elsewhere for your pain."

Then, slowly, so slowly, his hand moved from my chin, to the side of my cheek and stopped at my temple, a thumb pressed to my forehead. His eyes widened and he breathed out quickly, his face making an odd grimace – almost as if he was in pain.

But as soon as it had appeared it was gone, replaced by a small, hoarse laugh.

"So, that is your weakness? Well then, we can begin at last."

Those were the last words I registered before everything I knew would begin to change forever.

* * *

There was nothing at first, just his hand on my forehead and silence.

But then slowly, his hand seemed to float away – and even the whole room around us, until nobody remained but him and me. He was looking for something inside me.

And then, I could hear my fathers voice.

" _There you are, sweetheart."_

No.

" _I was looking all over for you in the house."_

 _His hand found my shoulder, then quickly but firmly dragged me out from under the bed. My hiding place. My small body was dragged along by his hands, even though I tried to struggle._

 **NO! I shook my head, refusing to believe it. It was not him, it was not real…**

And yet, it was. I could feel his breath on my neck, the warmth from his body.

And it was happening again. I could feel his hands on me. He was here. I looked, and everywhere I looked I saw his face. His reddish beard and short-cropped hair, eyes that remained deaf to anything I said, to anything I tried to say. I twisted my arm away from him, trying to get away.

But he wouldn't let me go. He would never let me go. Nobody of them would. They were all there now – not only my father, but the other ones that had succeeded – the ones he allowed. Their hands held me down as my father loomed over me, stripping of my clothes piece by piece.

 _Such a pretty dress._ He whispered inside my head, and I couldn't get it out. He was inside me now, pulling and tearing at everything that I was, everything that I am. Tearing it and tearing it while he sweated and sang his song of pleasure. My insided were ruined, blood trailing down my legs as they wouldn't stop.

 **They would not stop.**

He took what he wanted from me as **I cried and screamed**. I felt my body bruising as I tried to get away, but I didn't care. Anything but this – anyone but them.

"Stop please stop!" I screamed, my voice ringing out, echoing around me.

But nothing stopped. Instead I felt something hot and wet in my mouth, and the hands still held me down as the next one entered me – and they all held his face. Bizarrely, he cried as he continued to destroy me from the inside. Tears that turned to acid on my skin.

Once again, I was clothed. But it was not over, as my clothes were again, and again ripped off – my breasts fondled and pushed, blood pouring out from under me.

He whispered unspeakable things in my ear, all the excuses and all the lies. I started to shake, my body unable to control itself. Still, I felt myself trying to push away – pushing at all the hands and bodies around me, writhing and waiting. Waiting for me. They knew where I was, no matter where I went. Digging between my legs, the wound tearing me in two.

I had to get away.I had to get away. **I had to get away.**

But wherever I turned, he was right there waiting.

When I realized this, I let out a scream that I did not even recognize as my own. It sounded too shrill, too young to be me.

"This is not me!" I yelled, to who I don't know. I stood there and shook my head, shook and shook. My hands over my eyes, I fell to the floor and continued shaking, my whole body convulsing as I could feel him coming for me again. Inside me, again. Inside me. Oh god, oh god.

"This is not me, this is not me…." I repeated, like a mantra.

 **"This is not me."**

* * *

It's strange how memory works. Why we choose to find certain memories and keep close to them. Now there was only one ringing inside my head, over and over. I clung to it in this hell I was in, as if it could save me. Words I had never uttered in this lifetime came out of me, whispered and sometimes screamed. I spoke quickly, frantic.

 _Hear, and from punishment my soul absolve,_

 _The punishment incurr'd by pristine guilt,_

 _Thro' Lethe's darkness and terrene desire:_

 _And if for long-extended years I'm doom'd_

 _In these drear realms Heav'n's exile to remain,_

 _Oh! grant me soon the necessary means_

 _To gain that good which solitude confers_

I closed my eyes briefly as I felt hands around my neck, squeezing. I tried hiding inside myself, against the floor. A tear rolled down my cheek.

 _And in the vestibule supreme survey,_

 _Emerging from th' intelligible deep,_

 _Beauty's transcendent, solitary Sun."_


	42. A monster's heart

There is rarely a time I find myself asking questions. Maybe, long ago I would have asked. I would have been curious.

But as the centuries pass, you lose that. You stop questioning because you already know the answer. Curiosity amongst our kind is rare. That is why we do not understand you humans – who are curious about everything. You want to know what is already there before you. To us, it has always been like this.

Perhaps that is why we kill you – not only because we want to feed, but because we do not like what we cannot understand. And there lies the irony of it, I suppose.

But I? Why do I like it so much more? Why do I relish the sight of them in various stages of dying, the poetry in their decay that poets and artists have tried to capture for so long? There is no answer, or rather – I have never had to defend it. I do not feel the need. We all must feed, and so much better for it if it is a thing of pleasure. A certainty to all of us. It is actually rather beautiful, just like the artists describe. I have always liked the sight of skin turning grey, of eyes losing their spark. A waking dream.

It is true that we play with our food, because that is all that you are to us. A little immature perhaps, and not quite in etiquette, but that is how it is.

We enjoy your suffering. It does not matter if you deserve it or not. I have never questioned this reasoning.

* * *

Emotions have always burned me the most. I have an artists soul, after all. But never have another meant so much to me as that girl. She had no name, and yet she marked me forever, without knowing it then.

But the waking dream continued – with her. And it was different. I tried to be...different. But something went wrong, and I...failed. I couldn't keep her color alive, couldn't keep her heart with me.

She went away and something else did too. Much more of me gone. And my gift helped me, just as it cursed me as well. I was never alone again – the memories of others more like fables that never seemed real. It helped me when I could know what everyone else was thinking. I was a king once again, and that other life was a poor imitation of me, what I really was.

I knew how to rule, knew how to make them remember me.

* * *

Years passed and I did not think of her. Sick with fever forever, my poems recited out loud but never on a stage and the words were hollow, but whole world is a stage, as the bard once wrote. Entire villages of our kind gone, and I danced around their broken bodies. We became respected, more revered – a god once more.

Women weeping in my arms, me consoling them before I broke their necks. A beautiful order of things.

A waking dream, a new beautiful dream that seemed to continue forever.

I was not awake when she came. When I saw her again, I did not really see her. It was only when I touched her that I knew.

And the questions that I had never asked began to plague me.

* * *

I was happy, so happy to see her again. I wanted her then and there – with me always. But the first question came to me "Would she like that, without any explanation?"

I had never thought about someone else's needs before. It bothered me that I had to think like that, to have her. But then I knew that she would be uncooperative if I did not consider these things. And I wanted her to smile. Wanted her to sit next to my throne where I could see her, just like before.

But as the months passed, I grew impatient. I tried to make her remember what she should already know, what I glimpsed under the surface.

* * *

But she was difficult, uncertain. For so long. And so sweet, so tortured. In that life and in this one as well. She had already swallowed the pomegranate seeds, eaten all the fruits of the underworld – and yet I kept her at bay.

When I found out what she did to herself, I did not laugh. I did not mock her. Instead it reminded me of myself, and that was unthinkable.

" _What will happen when she finds out that you are a monster?"_

I looked at her bones, and realized how frail they were. Felt them through her flesh, warm in my arms. She was a warrior in her time, and still was – but my grip could break her. Inside and out, so easily. She had scars on her wrists and I found myself staring at them often, wondering. There is no use grieving the living, but sometimes there is.

In this waking dream of mine was a thorn – and the thorn was she. She was making a small tear, leading me to a place where I knew pain like she did. Addicting, just like her.

" _Will she ever smile, like you hoped?"_

Her smiles were real, but never like I had imagnined. I saw them differently, knew that they were a falsehood. That inside, something always bled. Would never heal if she stayed.

* * *

I just wanted her at first – she needed to be mine. A new pet, someone I could play with.

But she is the only one who has ever really known me.

Human emotions are hard to get rid of, once you feel them. They fester inside you and explode. And now she is going to die.

 _She made her choice._

And the Volturi never takes pity on their kind. But it is not pity I feel, but dread.

* * *

She is suffering, and so am I. I did not expect this to be torture for me as well as for her. But it is.

"Stop please stop! she screams, and I look away.

I know what she is seeing, feeling. I can feel it as keenly as her. I am gripping the sides of my chair, unable to look away as she fades away before my eyes. Not her life, maybe.

But her sanity. Her soul.

 _Can you live through her death one more time?_

 _Does her soul weigh more than the many thousand ones that came before her?_

 _What does yours weigh?_


	43. Flashback

_Mother had been sitting outside on the porch all evening. Even after dinner, when the sun had gone down and the air was cold. She was wrapped up in an old blanket – the one we had made together, our project. She was beautiful, my mother. We had the same red hair, the same sharp eyes. But there was a stiffness to her that never let go._

 _Dad had gone to bed already. But I was awake – because mother was awake. I was tied to her in everything. I went down the stairs, wearing my pajamas – she had put me to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I felt that something was different – with her, with us. But I didn't know why._

 _When I opened the front door and she saw me, her eyes were wide and alert in the dark, but she smiled tiredly as I stepped forward._

" _Honey, go back inside. It's cold."_

" _But you're here."_

" _I am waiting for someone."_

" _Can I wait with you?"_

 _I sat beside her on the wooden bench, looking out into the darkness of the forest around us. Even with the asphalted road just five meters ahead, the streetlamps that were brightly lit – it couldn't hide the wilderness that overpowered everything. Forks was like that, the forest always waiting._

" _What are we waiting for?"_

" _It doesn't matter. They won't come. I don't think they'll come..."_

 _She was scared. I had never seen her like that before, I realized. She hugged me tight to her side, and we continued to sit there, waiting. I fell asleep at some point, the warmth of her and the blanket around my shoulders comforting._

 _I awoke to the sound of her voice – and someone else. A voice I recognized. An older man. I barely opened my eyes to see my grandfather, sitting in a chair opposite us, smiling. His beard was greying, and so was his hair. He was an old man, yet he had the air of someone much younger. He used to come visit us in the spring. Mother did not seem happy to see him._

" _Father, this does not have to be done anymore. It is a too old tradition."_

" _I understand your reluctance. Keeping her here, far away from the rest of the world. It is what I almost did, remember?"_

" _It has never happened. Nobody in our lineage, for more than a century, has ever been like the first. "_

" _Not including you."_

 _They were silent for a long moment, mother's breath too loud – like there was not enough air for her to take in._

" _Just give her the necklace. She has to be given the mark."_

" _No. I don't want to do it. "_

" _If you don't, then I won't be responsible for what the others will do. You know that."_

 _That was the last thing he said that night._

* * *

 _Two weeks later, she woke me in the middle of the night._

 _Her eyelids were too purple. Her skin was strained and her eyes frantic, gathering my clothes in a small rucksack, helping me to put on a warm coat and boots by the door. She didn't lock the door behind us as we left – left dad. Left our home._

" _Where are we going mommy?" I asked, tugging on her hand that was holding mine so tightly. We were walking too fast. She barely glanced at me over her shoulder._

" _Shush, be quiet now. Stay quiet."_

 _Her hand was holding me too tight, and I winced. She unlocked our car and rushed me over to the passenger side. She kept the headlights turned off as we drove quietly down the street. I started to cry._

" _No honey, it's okay. We're going to be okay – just go to sleep."_

" _I can't."_

" _Rebecca, I am only doing this to keep you safe. You want to be safe, don't you?_

 _I shook my head at her, terrified. Tears were streaming down my face and I wanted daddy. I did not like mommy like this – I was scared._

 _Because she had been looking at me, she failed to see the person that stood in the middle of the road ahead of us. His eyes were shining in the dark, with light reflected from nowhere. He spread his arms wide and smiled at us – at me._

 _That's the last time I ever saw my mother. I don't know what happened afterwards, but the next morning I woke up in my bed. And mother was gone._


	44. Chapter 44

I had stopped moving, stopped shaking altogether now. Couldn't, did not have the strength.

My body was boneless, moving as they wanted. I was their puppet at last. Maybe this was my purpose all along. Why struggle when it was pointless anyway? It had always been pointless.

I would never be able to be clean from this.

"Go ahead then. Go ahead. You think this is enough? Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart. Rip me apart..." I whisper, my voice calm and sleepy, staring at nothing.

The hand at my forehead started to shake. I didn't notice. My mind was split in several directions, all white corridors with broken windows, broken doors. Nowhere to hide. Letting the shards in was an easy choice as they continued to move around me, inside me. Lavinia is whispering to me, showing me her bleeding wrists, no tongue and no air left to scream.

There is a pulling sensation in my head. Maybe it is death.

The hand I feel the most is shaking – more. My dads leer has become frozen, sweat gathering on his brow. But I do not see him. And then I truly do not see any of them anymore. They all fade before my eyes, like ghosts in the dark – playing tricks. The hand on my forehead is gone and an old man is on his knees in front of me, screaming. I am on my knees as well.

Is it me? Is this still happening? Curious, I lean forward and touch him, to see.

But he has the face of someone I recognize – someone I saw, before. Old and powerful, he was going to punish me for something, what was it? When I touch him, he screams louder. Is this my father?

The thought makes me burn. _He sounds like my father._

* * *

I squeeze his shoulder – the fabric bunching underneath my fingertips. The pulling in my head gets stronger and my hand feels glued to his body. He tries to scratch at my face with long fingernails. He starts yelling.

"Stop her! She is hurting me – I can feel it I – it burns! " he screams, wincing and trying to get away from my hand, trying to recoil. But he can't. I watch detached, fascinated. How is this part of hell?

"Who are you talking to? There is nobody here but you and me." I whisper. He does not understand. He never did.

Somebody touches my shoulder and I flinch, I burn. I can feel a scream against my skin, and then smaller – then nothing, just an empty echo left. A body thrust into a furnace, disposed. And then, more screams, more voices. But I don't see or pay attention. I only see my father's face, twisted in pain.

 _"Get off him! Make her get off!"_

 _"Call for the guards!"_

 _"How did she do that?!"_

 _"Kill her! Kill her now!"_

That last one does not slip past me. I move to the side as someone lunges for me, but manages to hit my shoulder hard enough that I hear a loud crack. But when they reach out to grab me, they separate into a million tiny pieces. Suspended in the air like falling ash, slowly disappearing and fading. Gone.

Just like the old man in front of me, who is beginning to crack and peel. He has stopped screaming for help ans instead just looks at me – his lips are gone, peeling off. His jaw is next to go, as he falls apart, piece by piece.

He looks surprised.

When the last piece of him falls to the floor, the voices are all silent for once. Nobody speaks, only barely audible gasps. Then the room goes pitch black – somebody has turned off the lights.

They still try to get to me, but I don't let them. I feel them on me for a split-second, and then no more – a muffled, gargled scream that falls away, like their bodies. Dust gathers into my eyes and I blink against it, rubbing my eyes.

 _"She must be killed! Stop her – do not let her leave!"_

I hear the sound of metal against the floor, and it makes me stop. I cannot stand upright, too much pain everywhere. I brace myself against the nearest wall I can find, staring wildly around me in the dark. I expect them to come back. I will be expecting them, prepared.

"Rip me apart then, rip me apart, rip me apart..." I mumble to the wall, closing my eyes just for a second. I am so tired. I just want to go to sleep.

Someone is close – I can hear a snarling sound and then – a surprised yelp and the crack of muscle and bone.

"Aro – what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" a question in the dark as I hear someone else that sounds like me, in pain.

"Because I should never have brought her here in the first place." is the answer, a dark, smooth voice speaks. He is someone I know. Another version of pain.

"Get away! Get away!" I scream, and the voice goes quiet. But I hear something else – an animal. Something sad and broken. A howl in the dark. Everyone else is gone – the footsteps have quieted and the bodies around us are still. I hear him shift in the dark – somewhere close to me. I cower against the wall.

"I never wished this for you, never. You must know that." he says, his voice thick with emotions I can't understand.

"I don't know who you are. Stay back!"

"I know. It was my fault. All of it."

"Then aren't you happy? Aren't you glad? You've won, at last. I am this, at last. "

"No...no!"

Suddenly he is right there next to me and I try to get away. But I am too tired and he holds me close and I have lost. He does not disintegrate, he does not burn. I am not sure if I want him to. But there is something wrong with him. He is crying.


	45. Chapter 45

I thought I died. It felt like it – the peace that came with it was palpable. Instead I slept in his arms for a long, long time. Just him and me in the darkness, surrounded by death. He had caused me so much pain, and yet he was the one I turned to when it was all over. Was this part of his plan as well – to make me seek him out, despite how much I hated him? In any case I woke up at last, but I was not myself. I could see them all coming towards me in the dark – trying to take my body once more.

My fathers face all around me, the other ones that had suceeded, manipulated and destroyed my innocense. I whimpered and closed my eyes, but I could still hear them, breathing, waiting. Aro's arms tightened around me, but he said nothing. We were still sittting against the wall, we hadn't left.

"I can hear them coming, can't you hear them?" I asked, whispered in the darkness lest they hear. I shivered, my eyes roaming around in the darkness, searching.

"It was a trick. It was all a trick to make you suffer. Nothing of what you hear is real." he finally said, one of his hands stroking my cheek. But he wouldn't look me in the eye as he said it.

"You helped him do this to me. You allowed him to do it." I whispered, and he let me go as I suddenly stood up – but the pain in my body didn't let me do it easily. There was no anger or malice in my voice, just wonder – just a statement of the truth. I picked at an invisible scratch on my arm and coughed, an aborted sound that might have been a cry, a shout. The dead bodiea around us - both human and vampire, some of which I'd killed. Aros hands vere messy, covered in blood.

"Yes. I always knew that you had something in your blood that was special. Something that wanted out – I could sense it. But I knew that it would never be unless something was done. Your punishment was a good excuse – and this ancient vampire, whom you have killed, was aware. "

I listened to his words, yet they formed in the air to snakes that bit at my flesh, coiling around my lungs. I looked at my hands, my skin – I had felt them burn as I touched anyone who came near me. How they had vaporized anyone who dared to touch me. I looked at him again and he turned his head away, and now I could see what he was feeling – shame. My hands shook as I held them out to him.

"I don't understand – why do I have this? Did you curse me with this?" I asked, my voice small. He sighed in the dark, his feet propped up on a corpse at his feet. "It is not a curse, it is in your blood. Your family line was counting on it – but not even I could predict a gift of such power. We knew that the celtics protected a family of vampire hunters – hunters who were rumoured to come from the offspring of supernatural creatures. When I saw that necklace, yes the very one your mother gave you – I knew then that meeting you twice in my lifetime was no coincidence. " His words – more talk, more manipulation.

None of it could be true.

I backed further away from him and his eyes widened as he got up off the ground, his eyes fixed on me.

"Just stay away. Just stay the fuck away from me." I hissed, and for once, he obeyed. He looked down at the stone floor in silence, but that didn't last. A sudden look of urgency came over his face as he looked back at me – something not quite sane in his eyes.

"Please. Please don't go."

"You know I have to. There is nothing left between us now. Nothing at all. "

"I can't undo any of it, I know. And I've tried, god knows I have tried to make you do as I wish but I can't- " he stopped talking, swallowing hard as he just stared at me for a moment. It was as if he was realizing something as he did so, a dawning horror on his face as tears began to fall.

"I can't make you love me."

His words left an imprint on both of us. I felt the shadows within myself withdraw a little as I saw his tears. He was the one who was naive, not me. I shook my head at him.

"I do love you, Aro. But not in the way that you imagined. I love you because your days and nights are never part of reality. I love you because you have demons too. I love you because you think devotion is forever, or not at all. But it is not enough to make me stay." He began advancing towards me now, with a desperation and a drive in his eyes – a predator trying to corner his prey, but a predator who is weak and starving – one who cannot last without the other.

"Do you want revenge? You can make me suffer as much as you have. Oh I will give it to you, my suffering, my pain at your will. I know that would make you happy, it would make it all better!" he exclaimed, beginning to reach out for me when I retreated, baring my hands at him.

"Don't!" I shouted and he faltered, unsure.

"Nothing of what you say will convince me to stay. And I will go Aro, and whatever you try, it will not stop me. Not this time."

It had been a long, long time since I had seen him look truly afraid. It reminded me of our time spent together in that other life, when he used to wake me after nightmares, his face ashen and terror without an end written on his lips. He bore the same expression now, desolation and fear. I was finally going to leave him in the dark, with his own demons.

And part of me hated myself for it.

* * *

After I had left the castle, the outside devoid of other people, it seemed just like an abandoned building, like nobody had lived there for centuries – and in one way, that was true. But the cars were still parked outside. I hobbled my way down the stone staircase by the entrance, and as I walked away I suddenly heard a distant crash behind me, along with a long, agonizing scream.

I continued walking away, getting into one of the many cars that still littered the driveway. As I drove away on the small road through the forest, the castle became smaller and smaller in the distance, before finally disappearing altogether from my sight.

* * *

I drove for a long time, through the night and into the early morning. It began to rain as I crossed the border to france, but I kept the windows rolled down. As the toll booths loomed near, I realized that I had no identification with me, or a passport. But there was no fear or worry as I realized it. I doubt my old passport would have worked now, give to how I'd changed, both inside and out.

The girl on that picture was maybe still there, somewhere inside me. But the one who gripped the steering wheel with gritty and bloody fingernails was somebody else entirely.

THE END


	46. Chapter 46

I thought I died. It felt like it – the peace that came with it was palpable. Instead I slept in his arms for a long, long time. Just him and me in the darkness, surrounded by death. He had caused me so much pain, and yet he was the one I turned to when it was all over. Was this part of his plan as well – to make me seek him out, despite how much I hated him? In any case I woke up at last, but I was not myself. I could see them all coming towards me in the dark – trying to take my body once more.

My fathers face all around me, the other ones that had suceeded, manipulated and destroyed my innocense. I whimpered and closed my eyes, but I could still hear them, breathing, waiting. Aro's arms tightened around me, but he said nothing. We were still sittting against the wall, we hadn't left.

"I can hear them coming, can't you hear them?" I asked, whispered in the darkness lest they hear. I shivered, my eyes roaming around in the darkness, searching.

"It was a trick. It was all a trick to make you suffer. Nothing of what you hear is real." he finally said, one of his hands stroking my cheek. But he wouldn't look me in the eye as he said it.

"You helped him do this to me. You allowed him to do it." I whispered, and he let me go as I suddenly stood up – but the pain in my body didn't let me do it easily. There was no anger or malice in my voice, just wonder – just a statement of the truth. I picked at an invisible scratch on my arm and coughed, an aborted sound that might have been a cry, a shout. The dead bodiea around us - both human and vampire, some of which I'd killed. Aros hands vere messy, covered in blood.

"Yes. I always knew that you had something in your blood that was special. Something that wanted out – I could sense it. But I knew that it would never be unless something was done. Your punishment was a good excuse – and this ancient vampire, whom you have killed, was aware. "

I listened to his words, yet they formed in the air to snakes that bit at my flesh, coiling around my lungs. I looked at my hands, my skin – I had felt them burn as I touched anyone who came near me. How they had vaporized anyone who dared to touch me. I looked at him again and he turned his head away, and now I could see what he was feeling – shame. My hands shook as I held them out to him.

"I don't understand – why do I have this? Did you curse me with this?" I asked, my voice small. He sighed in the dark, his feet propped up on a corpse at his feet. "It is not a curse, it is in your blood. Your family line was counting on it – but not even I could predict a gift of such power. We knew that the celtics protected a family of vampire hunters – hunters who were rumoured to come from the offspring of supernatural creatures. When I saw that necklace, yes the very one your mother gave you – I knew then that meeting you twice in my lifetime was no coincidence. " His words – more talk, more manipulation.

None of it could be true.

I backed further away from him and his eyes widened as he got up off the ground, his eyes fixed on me.

"Just stay away. Just stay the fuck away from me." I hissed, and for once, he obeyed. He looked down at the stone floor in silence, but that didn't last. A sudden look of urgency came over his face as he looked back at me – something not quite sane in his eyes.

"Please. Please don't go."

"You know I have to. There is nothing left between us now. Nothing at all. "

"I can't undo any of it, I know. And I've tried, god knows I have tried to make you do as I wish but I can't- " he stopped talking, swallowing hard as he just stared at me for a moment. It was as if he was realizing something as he did so, a dawning horror on his face as tears began to fall.

"I can't make you love me."

His words left an imprint on both of us. I felt the shadows within myself withdraw a little as I saw his tears. He was the one who was naive, not me. I shook my head at him.

"I do love you, Aro. But not in the way that you imagined. I love you because your days and nights are never part of reality. I love you because you have demons too. I love you because you think devotion is forever, or not at all. But it is not enough to make me stay." He began advancing towards me now, with a desperation and a drive in his eyes – a predator trying to corner his prey, but a predator who is weak and starving – one who cannot last without the other.

"Do you want revenge? You can make me suffer as much as you have. Oh I will give it to you, my suffering, my pain at your will. I know that would make you happy, it would make it all better!" he exclaimed, beginning to reach out for me when I retreated, baring my hands at him.

"Don't!" I shouted and he faltered, unsure.

"Nothing of what you say will convince me to stay. And I will go Aro, and whatever you try, it will not stop me. Not this time."

It had been a long, long time since I had seen him look truly afraid. It reminded me of our time spent together in that other life, when he used to wake me after nightmares, his face ashen and terror without an end written on his lips. He bore the same expression now, desolation and fear. I was finally going to leave him in the dark, with his own demons.

And part of me hated myself for it.

* * *

After I had left the castle, the outside devoid of other people, it seemed just like an abandoned building, like nobody had lived there for centuries – and in one way, that was true. But the cars were still parked outside. I hobbled my way down the stone staircase by the entrance, and as I walked away I suddenly heard a distant crash behind me, along with a long, agonizing scream.

I continued walking away, getting into one of the many cars that still littered the driveway. As I drove away on the small road through the forest, the castle became smaller and smaller in the distance, before finally disappearing altogether from my sight.

* * *

I drove for a long time, through the night and into the early morning. It began to rain as I crossed the border to france, but I kept the windows rolled down. As the toll booths loomed near, I realized that I had no identification with me, or a passport. But there was no fear or worry as I realized it. I doubt my old passport would have worked now, give to how I'd changed, both inside and out.

The girl on that picture was maybe still there, somewhere inside me. But the one who gripped the steering wheel with gritty and bloody hands and fingernails was somebody else entirely.

THE END


	47. List of references and inspirations

**List of inspiration and references in no particular order**

I saw another writer do this at the end of their fanfic and I thought it was a nice idea. I don't like using/borrowing direct quotes, not consciously at least. But I am always inspired by something – or in this case, a lot of things. This was emotionally a hard story to write since it's so dark and twisted, but fun nonetheless.

 _Felidae_ (1994) movie

\- scene in particular: Jesaja in the underground graveyard and the story of his life

Until dawn, video game

\- scene in particular: Jessicas police interrogation at the end, displaying severe PTSD symptoms

 _Prince of Egypt_ (1998) movie

\- scene in particular: Moses confronting the pharaoh

BBC documentary about Emperor Nero (with Michael Sheen) too many good scenes here to mention

 _Living Dead Girl_ by Elizabeth Scott (book)

 _The Descent_ (2005) horror movie

 _Buffy the vampire slayer_

particular episodes: Prophecy girl, When she was bad, I only have eyes for you, The body, The weight of the world

 _The Historian_ (book)

 _Dracula_ (the short-lived tv series from 2013) basically the whole reincarnation premise

Several Shakespeare plays, Titus Andronicus and Romeo and Juliet in particular


	48. Afterword (fixed) - sequel and youtube

Thank you so much everyone for still liking and reading this story! It really makes me a happy camper! :)

There is an active sequel to this story now called "The haze of you" - its got even more HORROR, ROMANCE and TRAUMA! lol

Also, if you want to you can also check me out on youtube: channel/UCUFaBotmt5-2mgCP1CwW9DQ?view_as=subscriber

Ta ta!


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